HAROLD  MacGRATH 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN 


MAURICE  THRUST  AND  THE   BLADE    WENT  TRUE 


THE  PUPPET 
CROWN 


BY 

HAROLD  MAC  GRATH 

AUTHOR  OF    "THE   GREY   CLOAK,"    "THE   MAN 
ON  THE   BOX,"    ETC. 


COPYRIGHT  1900 
BY  HAROLD  MACGRATH 


COPYRIGHT  1901 
BY  THE  BOWEN-MEKKILL  COMPANY 


PRESS  OF 

BRAUNWORTH  &.  CO. 

BOOKBINDERS  AND  PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN,  N.  Y. 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  THAT  GOOD  FRIEND 

AND 

COMRADE  OF  MY  YOUTH 
MY  FATHER 


2226215 


CONTENTS 

I.     THE  SCEPTER  WHICH  WAS  A  STICK        1 

II.     THE  COUP  D'ETAT  OF  COUSIN  JOSEF      14 

III.     AN  EPISODE  TEX  YEARS  AFTER  28 

IV.     Ax  ADVEXTURE  WITH  EOYALTY  48 

V.     BEHIND  THE  PUPPET  BOOTH  64 

VI.     MADEMOISELLE  OF  THE  VEIL  81 

VII.     SOME  DIALOGUE,  A  SPRAINED  ANKLE, 

AND  SOME  SOLDIERS  98 

VIII.     THE  RED  CHATEAU  114 

IX.     NOTHING  MORE  SERIOUS  THAN  A 

HOUSE  PARTY  128 

X.    BEING  OF  LONG  RIDES,  MAIDS,  KISSES 

A.VD  MESSAGES  146 

XI.     THE  DENOUEMENT  162 

XII.     WHOM  THE  GODS  DESTROY  AND  A 

FEW  OTHERS  174 


CONTENTS 

XIII.     BEING  OF  COMPLICATIONS  NOT  BECK- 
ONED ON  190 
XIV.     Qui  M'AiME,  AIME  MON  CHIEN         206 
XV.    IN  WHICH  FORTUNE  BECOMES  CARE- 
LESS AND  PRODIGAL                         227 
XVI.    WHAT   HAPPENED   AT   THE   ARCH- 
BISHOP'S PALACE  AND  AFTER           244 
XVII.     SOME  PASSAGES  AT  ARMS                   268 
XVIII.    A  MINOR  CHORD  AND  A  CHANGE  OF 

MOVEMENT  279 

XIX.    A  CHANCE  RIDE  IN  THE  NIGHT          292 

XX.     THE  LAST  STAND  OF  A  BAD  SERVANT  307 

XXI.    A  COURT  FETE  AT  THE  RED  CHATEAU  324 

XXII.    IN  WHICH  MAURICE  RECURS  TO 

OFFENBACH  337 

XXIII.  A  GAME  OF  POKER  AND  THE  STAKES    350 

XXIV.  THE  PRISONER  OF  THE  RED  CHATEAU  363 
XXV.    THE  FORTUNES  OF  WAR  383 

XXVI.  A  PAGE  FROM  TASSO  397 

XXVII.  WORMWOOD  AND  LEES  413 

XXVIII.  INTO  THE  HANDS  OF  AUSTRIA  422 

XXIX.  INTO  STILL  WATERS  AND  SILENCE  431 


Ah  Love!  could  you  and  I  with  Him  conspire 
To  grasp  this  sorry  Scheme  of  Things  entire 
Would  not  we  shatter  it  to  bits — and  then 
Re-mold  it  nearer  to  the  Heart's  desire! 

— RDBAIYAT  OF  OMAE  KHAYYAM. 


THE  PUPPET  CROWN 

CHAPTEK  I 

THE   SCEPTER   WHICH   WAS   A   STICK 

The  king  sat  in  his  private  garden  in  the  shade 
of  a  potted  orange  tree,  the  leaves  of  which  were 
splashed  with  brilliant  yellow.  It  was  high  noon 
of  one  of  those  last  warm  sighs  of  passing  sum- 
mer which  now  and  then  lovingly  steal  in  between 
the  chill  breaths  of  September.  The  velvet^  hush 
of  the  mid-day  hour  had  fallen. 

There  was  an  endless  horizon  of  turquoise  blue,  a 
zenith  pellucid  as  glass.  The  trees  stood  motionless ; 
not  a  shadow  stirred,  save  that  which  was  cast  by  the 
tremulous  wings  of  a  black  and  purple  butterfly, 
which,  near  to  his  Majesty,  fell,  rose  and  sank  again. 
From  a  drove  of  wild  bees,  swimming  hither  and 
thither  in  quest  of  the  final  sweets  of  the  year,  came 
a  low  murmurous  hum,  such  as  a  man  sometimes 
fancies  he  hears  while  standing  alone  in  the  vast 
auditorium  of  a  cathedral. 

The  king,  from  where  he  sat,  could  see  the  ivy-clad 
towers  of  the  archbishop's  palace,  where,  in  and  about 
the  narrow  windows,  gray  and  white  doves  fluttered 


4  TH£    PUPPET    CROTVX 

and  plumed  themselves.  The  garden  sloped  gently 
downward  till  it  merged  into  a  beautiful  lake  called 
the  Werter  See,  which,  stretching  out  several  miles 
to  the  west,  in  the  heart  of  the  thick-wooded  hills, 
trembled  like  a  thin  sheet  of  silver. 

Toward  the  south,  far  away,  lay  the  dim,  uneven 
blue  line  of  the  Thalian  Alps,  which  separated  the 
kingdom  that  was  from  the  duchy  that  is,  and  the 
duke  from  his  desires.  More  than  once  the  king 
leveled  his  gaze  in  that  direction,  as  if  to  fathom 
what  lay  behind  those  lordly  rugged  hills. 

There  was  in  the  air  the  delicate  odor  of  the 
deciduous  leaves  which,  every  little  while,  the 
king  inhaled,  his  eyes  half-closed  and  his  nostrils 
distended.  Save  for  these  brief  moments,  how- 
ever, there  rested  on  his  countenance  an  expres- 
sion of  disenchantment  which  came  of  the  knowl- 
edge of  a  part  ill-played,  an  expression  which  de- 
scribed a  consciousness  of  his  unfitness  and  in- 
utility,  of  lethargy  and  weariness  and  distaste. 

To  be  weary  is  the  lot  of  kings,  it  is  a  part  of 
their  royal  prerogative;  but  it  is  only  a  great  king 
who  can  be  weary  gracefully.  And  Leopold  was 
not  a  great  king;  indeed,  he  was  many  inches 
short  of  the  ideal;  but  he  was  philosophical,  and 
by  the  process  of  reason  he  escaped  the  pitfalls 
which  lurk  in  the  path  of  peevishness. 

To  know  the  smallness  of  the  human  atom,  the 
limit  of  desire,  the  existence  of  other  lives  as  precious 
as  their  own,  is  not  the  philosophy  which  makes 
great  kings.  Philosophy  engenders  pity;  and  one 
who  possesses  that  can  not  ride  roughshod  over  men, 
and  that  is  the  business  of  kings. 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN  3 

As  for  Leopold,  he  would  rather  have  wandered  the 
byways  of  Kant  than  studied  royal  etiquette.  A 
crown  had  been  thrust  on  his  head  and  a  scepter  into 
his  hand,  and,  willy-nilly,  he  must  wear  the  one  and 
wield  the  other.  The  confederation  had  determined 
the  matter  shortly  before  the  Franco-Prussian  war. 

The  kingdom  that  was,  an  admixture  of  old  France 
and  newer  Austria,  was  a  gateway  which  opened 
the  road  to  the  Orient,  and  a  gateman  must  be 
placed  there  who  would  be  obedient  to  the  will 
of  the  great  travelers,  were  they  minded  to  pass 
that  way.  That  is  to  say,  the  confederation 
wanted  a  puppet,  and  in  Leopold  they  found  a 
dreamer,  which  served  as  well.  That  glittering 
bait,  a  crown,  had  lured  him  from  his  peaceful 
Osian  hills  and  valleys,  and  now  he  found  that 
his  crown  was  of  straw  and  his  scepter  a  stick. 

He  longed  to  turn  back,  for  his  heart  lay  in  a 
tomb  close  to  his  castle  keep,  but  the  way  back 
was  closed.  He  had  sold  his  birthright.  So  he 
permitted  his  ministers  to  rule  his  kingdom  how 
they  would,  and  gave  himself  up  to  dreams.  He 
had  been  but  a  cousin  of  the  late  king,  whereas 
the  duke  of  the  duchy  that  is  had  been  a  brother. 
But  cousin  Josef  was  possessed  of  red  hair  and 
a  temper  which  was  redder  still,  and,  moreover, 
a  superlative  will,  bending  to  none,  and  laughing 
at  those  who  tried  to  bend  him. 

He  would  have  been  a  king  to  the  tip  of  his  fiery 
hair,  and  it  was  for  this  very  reason  that  his  subse- 
quent appeals  for  justice  and  his  rights  fell  on 
unheeding  ears.  The  confederation  feared  Josef; 
therefore  they  dispossessed  him.  Thus  Leopold  sat 


4  THE    PUPPET     CKOWN 

on  the  throne,  while  his  Highness  bit  his  nails  and 
swore,  impotent  to  all  appearances. 

Leopold  leaned  forward  from  his  seat.  In  his 
hand  he  held  a  riding  stick  with  which  he  drew 
shapeless  pictures  in  the  yellow  gravel  of  the  path. 
His  brows  were  drawn  over  contemplative  eyes, 
and  the  hint  of  a  sour  smile  lifted  the  corners  of 
his  lips.  Presently  the  brows  relaxed,  and  his 
gaze  traveled  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  path, 
where  the  British  minister  sat  in  the  full  glare 
of  the  sun. 

In  the  middle  of  the  path,  as  rigid  as  a  block  of 
white  marble,  reposed  a  young  bull-dog,  his  moist 
black  nose  quivering  under  the  repeated  attacks  of 
a  persistent  insect.  It  occurred  to  the  king  that 
there  was  a  resemblance  between  the  dog  and  his  mas- 
ter, the  Englishman.  The  same  heavy  jaws  were 
there,  the  same  fearless  eyes,  the  same  indomitable 
courage  for  the  prosecution  of  a  purpose. 

A  momentary  regret  passed  through  him  that  he 
had  not  been  turned  from  a  like  mold.  Next  his 
gaze  shifted  to  the  end  of  the  path,  where  a  young 
Lieutenant  stood  idly  kicking  pebbles,  his  cuirass 
flaming  in  the  dazzling  sunshine.  Soon  the  draw- 
ing in  the  gravel  was  resumed. 

The  British  minister  made  little  of  the  three- 
score years  which  were  closing  in  on  him,  after 
the  manner  of  an  army  besieging  a  citadel.  He 
was  full  of  animal  exuberance,  and  his  eyes,  a  trifle 
faded,  it  must  be  admitted,  were  still  keenly  alive 
and  observant.  He  was  big  of  bone,  florid  of  skin, 
and  his  hair — wliat  remained  of  it — was  wiry  and 
bleached.  His  clothes,  possibly  cut  from  an  old 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  5 

measure,  hung  loosely  about  the  girth — a  sign  that 
time  had  taken  its  tithe.  For  thirty-five  years  he 
had  served  his  country  by  cunning  speeches  and 
bursts  of  fine  oratory;  he  had  wandered  over  the 
globe,  lulling  suspicions  here  and  arousing  them 
there,  a  prince  of  the  art  of  diplomacy. 

He  had  not  been  sent  here  to  watch  this  kingdom. 
He  was  touching  a  deeper  undercurrent,  which  be- 
gan at  St.  Petersburg  and  moved  toward  Central 
Asia,  Turkey  and  India,  sullenly  and  irresistibly. 
And  now  his  task  was  done,  and  another  was  to  take 
his  place,  to  be  a  puppet  among  puppets.  He  feared 
no  man  save  his  valet,  who  knew  his  one  weakness, — 
the  love  of  a  son  on  whom  he  had  shut  his  door,  which 
pride  forbade  him  to  open.  This  son  had  chosen  the 
army,  when  a  fine  diplomatic  career  had  been 
planned — a  small  thing,  but  it  sufficed.  Even  now  a 
word  from  an  humbled  pride  would  have  reunited 
father  and  son,  but  both  refused  to  speak  this  word. 

The  diplomat  in  turn  watched  the  king  as  he 
engaged  in  the  aimless  drawing.  His  meditation 
grew  retrospective,  and  his  thoughts  ran  back  to 
the  days  when  he  first  befriended  this  lonely  prince, 
who  had  come  to  England  to  learn  the  language 
and  manners  of  the  chill  islanders.  He  had  been 
handsome  enough  in  those  days,  this  Leopold  of 
Osia,  gay  and  eager,  possessing  an  indefinable  charm 
which  endeared  him  to  women  and  made  him  re- 
spected of  men.  To  have  known  him  then,  the 
wildest  stretch  of  fancy  would  never  have  placed 
him  on  this  puppet  throne,  surrounded  by  enemies, 
menaced  by  his  adopted  people,  rudderless  and  igno- 
rant of  statecraft. 


6  THE    PUPPET     CROWX 

"Fate  is  the  cup,"  the  diplomat  mused,  "and  the 
human  life  the  ball,  and  it's  toss,  toss,  toss,  till  the 
ball  slips  and  falls  into  eternity."  Aloud  he  said, 
"Your  Majesty  seems  to  be  well  occupied." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  king,  smiling.  "I  am  mak- 
ing crowns  and  scratching  them  out  again — 
usurping  the  gentle  pastime  of  their  most  Chris- 
tian Majesties,  the  confederation.  A  pretty  bauble 
is  a  crown,  indeed — at  a  distance.  It  is  a  fine 
thing  to  wear  one — in  a  dream.  But  to  possess 
one  in  the  real,  and  to  wear  it  day  by  day  with 
the  eternal  fear  of  laying  it  down  and  forgetting 
where  you  put  it,  or  that  others  plot  to  steal  it, 
or  that  you  wear  it  dishonestly — Well,  well,  there  are 
worse  things  than  a  beggar's  crust." 

"No  one  is  honest  in  this  world,  save  the 
brute,"  said  the  diplomat,  touching  the  dog  with 
his  foot.  "Honesty  is  instinctive  with  him,  for 
he  knows  no  written  laws.  The  gold  we  use  is 
stamped  with  dishonesty,  notwithstanding  the 
beautiful  mottoes;  and  so  long  as  we  barter  and 
sell  for  it,  just  so  long  we  remain  dishonest. 
Yes,  you  wear  your  crown  dishonestly  but  law- 
fully, which  is  a  nice  distinction.  But  is  any 
crown  worn  honestly?  If  it  is  not  bought  with 
gold,  it  is  bought  with  lies  and  blood.  Sire,  your 
great  fault,  if  I  may  speak,  is  that  you  haven't 
continued  to  be  dishonest.  You  should  have  filled 
your  private  coffers,  but  you  have  not  done  so, 
which  is  a  strange  precedent  to  establish.  You 
should  have  increased  taxation,  but  you  have  di- 
minished it;  you  should  have  forced  your  enemy's 
hand  four  years  ago,  when  you  ascended  the 


THE     PUPPET     GROWN  7 

throne,  but  you  did  not;  and  now,  for  all  you 
know,  his  hand  may  be  too  strong.  Poor,  dishon- 
est king!  When  you  accepted  this  throne,  which 
belongs  to  another,  you  fell  as  far  as  possible  from 
moral  ethics.  And  now  you  would  be  honest  and 
be  called  dull,  and  dream,  while  your  ministers 
profit  and  smile  behind  your  back.  I  beg  your 
Majesty's  pardon,  but  you  have  always  requested 
that  I  should  speak  plainly." 

The  king  laughed;  he  enjoyed  this  frank  friend. 
There  was  an  essence  of  truth  and  sincerity  in  all 
he  said  that  encouraged  confidence. 

"Indeed,  I  shall  be  sorry  to  have  you  go  to- 
morrow," he  said,  "for  I  believe  if  you  stayed 
here  long  enough  you  would  truly  make  a  king 
of  me.  Be  frank,  my  friend,  be  always  frank; 
for  it  is  only  on  the  base  of  frankness  that  true 
friendship  can  rear  itself." 

"You  are  only  forty-eight,"  said  the  English- 
man; "you  are  young." 

"Ah,  my  friend,"  replied  the  king  with  a  tinge 
of  sadness,  "it  is  not  the  years  that  age  us;  it 
is  how  we  live  them.  In  the  last  four  years  I 
have  lived  ten.  To-day  I  feel  so  very  old !  I 
am  weary  of  being  a  king.  I  am  weary  of  being 
wear}r,  and  for  such  there  is  no  remedy.  Truly  I 
was  not  cut  from  the  pattern  of  kings;  no,  no. 
I  am  handier  with  a  book  than  with  a  scepter;  I'd 
liever  be  a  man  than  a  puppet,  and  a  puppet  I 
am — a  figurehead  on  the  prow  of  the  ship,  but  I 
do  not  guide  it.  Who  care  for  me  save  those  who 
have  their  ends  to  gain?  None,  save  the  arch- 
bishop, who  yet  dreams  of  making  a  king  of  me.  And 


8  THE     PUPPET     CllOWX 

these  are  not  my  people  who  surround  me;  when 
I  die,  small  care.  I  shall  have  left  in  the  passing 
scarce  a  finger  mark  in  the  dust  of  time." 

"Ah,  Sire,  if  only  you  would  be  cold,  unfriendly, 
avaricious.  Be  stone  and  rule  with  a  rod  of  iron. 
Make  the  people  fear  you,  since  they  refuse  to 
love  you;  be  stone/' 

"You  can  mold  lead,  but  you  can  not  sculp- 
ture it;  and  I  am  lead." 

"Yes;  not  only  the  metal,  but  the  verb  intran- 
sitive. Ah,  could  the  fires  of  ambition  light  your 
soul !" 

"My  soul  is  a  blackened  grate  of  burnt-out 
fires,  of  which  only  a  coal  remains." 

And  the  king  turned  in  his  seat  and  looked 
across  the  crisp  green  lawns  to  the  beds  of  flow- 
ers, where,  followed  by  a  maid  at  a  respect- 
ful distance,  a  slim  young  girl  in  white  was 
cutting  the  hardy  geraniums,  dahlias  and  seed  pop- 
pies. 

"God  knows  what  her  legacy  will  be!" 

"It  is  for  you  to  make  it,  Sire." 

Both  men  continued  to  remark  the  girl.  At 
length  she  came  toward  them,  her  arms  laden 
with  flowers.  She  was  at  the  age  of  ten,  with  a 
beautiful,  serious  face,  which  some  might  have 
called  prophetic.  Her  hair  was  dark,  shining 
like  coal  and  purple,  and  gossamer  in  its  fine- 
ness; her  skin  had  the  blue-whiteness  of  milk; 
while  from  under  long  black  lashes  two  luminous 
brown  eyes  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  world.  She 
smiled  at  the  king,  who  eyed  her  fondly,  and  gave 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  9 

her  unengaged  hand  to  the  Englishman,  who  kissed 
it. 

"And  how  is  your  Royal  Highness  this  fine  day?" 
he  asked,  patting  the  hand  before  letting  it  go. 

"Will  you  have  a  dahlia,  Monsieur?"  With  a 
grave  air  she  selected  a  flower  and  slipped  it 
through  his  button-hole. 

"Does  your  Highness  know  the  language  of  the 
flowers?"  the  Englishman  asked. 

"Dahlias  signify  dignity  and  elegance;  you  are 
dignified,  Monsieur,  and  dignity  is  elegance." 

"Well !"  cried  the  Englishman,  smiling  with 
pleasure;  "that  is  turned  as  adroitly  as  a  woman 
of  thirty." 

"And  am  I  not  to  have  one?"  asked  the  king, 
his  eyes  full  of  paternal  love  and  pride. 

"They  are  for  your  Majesty's  table,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"Your  Majesty!"  cried  the  king  in  mimic  de- 
spair. "Was  ever  a  father  treated  thus?  Your 
Majesty !  Do  you  not  know,  my  dear,  that  to  me 
'father'  is  the  grandest  title  in  the  world?" 

Suddenly  she  crossed  over  and  kissed  the  king 
on  the  cheek,  and  he  held  her  to  him  for  a  moment. 

The  bulldog  had  risen,  and  was  wagging  his 
tail  the  best  he  knew  how.  If  there  was  any 
young  woman  who  could  claim  his  unreserved  ad- 
miration, it  was  the  Princess  Alexia.  She  never 
talked  nonsense  to  him  in  their  rambles  together, 
but  treated  him  as  he  should  be  treated,  as  an  ani- 
mal of  enlightenment. 

"And  here  is  Bull,"  said  the  princess,  tickling 
the  dog's  nose  with  a  scarlet  geranium. 


10  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

"Your  Highness  thinks  a  deal  of  Bull?"  said  the 
dog's  master. 

"Yes,  Monsieur,  he  doesn't  bark,  and  he  seems 
to  understand  all  I  say  to  him." 

The  dog  looked  up  at  his  master  as  if  to  say: 
"There  now,  what  do  you  think  of  that?" 

"To-morrow  I  am  going  away,"  said  the  diplo- 
mat, "and  as  I  can  not  very  well  take  Bull  with 
me,  I  give  him  to  you." 

The  girl's  eyes  sparkled.  "Thank  you,  Monsieur, 
shall  I  take  him  now?" 

"No,  but  when  I  leave  your  father.  You  see, 
he  was  sent  to  me  by  my  son  who  is  in  India.  I 
wish  to  keep  him  near  me  as  long  as  possible.  My 
son,  your  Highness,  was  a  bad  fellow.  He  ran 
away  and  joined  the  army  against  my  wishes,  and 
somehow  we  have  never  got  together  again.  Still, 
I've  a  sneaking  regard  for  him,  and  I  believe  he 
hasn't  lost  all  his  filial  devotion.  Bull  is,  in  a  way, 
a  connecting  link." 

The  king  turned  again  to  the  gravel  pictures. 
These  Englishmen  were  beyond  him  in  the  matter 
of  analysis.  Her  Eoyal  Highness  smiled  vaguely, 
and  wondered  what  this  son  was  like.  Once  more 
she  smiled,  then  moved  away  toward  the  palace. 
The  dog,  seeing  that  she  did  not  beckon,  lay  down 
again.  An  interval  of  silence  followed  her  de- 
parture. The  thought  of  the  Englishman  had 
traveled  to  India,  the  thought  of  the  king  to  Osia, 
where  the  girl's  mother  slept.  The  former  was 
first  to  rouse. 

"Well,  Sire,  let  us  come  to  the  business  at  hand, 
the  subject  of  my  last  informal  audience.  It  is 


THE    PUPPET    CROWN  11 

crus,  then,  that  the  consols  for  the  loan  of  five 
millions  of  crowns  are  issued  to-day,  or  have  been, 
since  the  morning  is  passed?" 

"Yes,  it  is  true.  I  am  well  pleased.  Jacobi  and 
Brother  have  agreed  to  place  them  at  face  value. 
I  intend  to  lay  out  a  park  for  the  public  at  the 
foot  of  the  lake.  That  will  demolish  two  millions 
and  a  half.  The  remainder  is  to  be  used  in  city 
improvements  and  the  reconstruction  of  the  apart- 
ments in  the  palace,  which  are  too  small.  If  only 
you  knew  what  a  pleasure  this  affords  me !  I  wish 
to  make  my  good  city  of  Bleiberg  a  thing  of  beauty 
— parks,  fountains,  broad  and  well  paved  streets." 

"The  Diet  was  unanimous  in  regard  to  this  loan  ?" 

"In  fact  they  suggested  it,  and  I  was  much  in 
favor." 

"You  have  many  friends  there,  then?" 

"Friends?"  The  king's  face  grew  puzzled,  and 
its  animation  faded  away.  "None  that  I  know. 
This  is  positively  the  first  time  we  ever  agreed  about 
anything." 

"And  did  not  that  strike  you  as  rather  singu- 
lar?" 

"Why,  no." 

"Of  course,  the  people  are  enthusiastic,  consid- 
ering the  old  rate  of  taxation  will  be  renewed?" 
The  diplomat  reached  over  and  pulled  the  dog's 
ears. 

"So  far  as  I  can  see,"  answered  the  king,  who 
could  make  nothing  of  this  interrogatory. 

"Which,  if  your  Majesty  will  pardon  me,  is  not 
very  far  beyond  your  books." 

"I  have  ministers." 


IS  THE    PUPPET    CROWN 

"Who  can  see  farther  than  your  Majesty  has 
any  idea." 

"Come,  come,  my  friend,"  cried  the  king  good- 
naturedly;  "but  a  moment  gone  you  were  chiding 
me  because  I  did  nothing.  I  may  not  fill  my  cof- 
fers as  you  suggested,  but  I  shall  please  my  eye, 
which  is  something.  Come;  you  have  something 
to  tell  me." 

"Will  your  Majesty  listen?" 

"I  promise." 

"And  to  hear?" 

"I  promise  not  only  to  listen,  but  to  hear," 
laughing;  "not  only  to  hear,  but  to  think.  Is  that 
sufficient?" 

"For  three  years,"  began  the  Englishman,  "I 
have  been  England's  representative  here.  As  a 
representative  I  could  not  meddle  with  your  af- 
fairs, though  it  was  possible  to  observe  them. 
To-day  I  am  an  unfettered  agent  of  self,  and  with 
your  permission  I  shall  talk  to  you  as  I  have 
never  talked  before  and  never  shall  again." 

The  diplomat  rose  from  his  seat  and  walked  up 
and  down  the  path,  his  hands  clasped  behind  his 
back,  his  chin  in  his  collar.  The  bulldog  yawned, 
stretched  himself,  and  followed  his  master,  soberly 
and  thoughtfully.  After  a  while  the  Englishman 
returned  to  his  chair  and  sat  down.  The  dog 
gravely  imitated  him.  He  understood,  perhaps 
better  than  the  king,  his  master's  mood.  This 
pacing  backward  and  forward  was  always  the  fore- 
runner of  something  of  great  importance. 

During  the  past  year  he  had  been  the  repository 
of  many  a  secret.  Well,  he  knew  how  to  keep  one. 


THE    PUPPET    CROWN  13 

Did  not  he  carry  a  secret  which  his  master  would 
have  given  much  to  know?  Some  one  in  far  away 
India,  after  putting  him  into  the  ship  steward's 
care,  had  whispered:  "You  tell  the  governor  that 
I  think  just  as  much  of  him  as  ever."  He  had 
made  a  desperate  effort  to  tell  it  the  moment  he 
was  liberated  from  the  box,  but  he  had  not  yet 
mastered  that  particular  language  which  charac- 
terized his  master's  race. 

"To  begin  with,"  said  the  diplomat,  "what  would 
your  Majesty  say  if  I  should  ask  permission  to 
purchase  the  entire  loan  ?" 


CHAPTEE  II 
THE  COUP  D'ETAT  OF  COUSIN  JOSEF 

The  king,  who  had  been  leaning  forward,  fell 
back  heavily  in  his  seat,  his  eyes  full  wide  and 
his  mouth  agape.  Then,  to  express  his  utter  be- 
wilderment, he  raised  his  hands  above  his  head  and 
limply  dropped  them. 

"Five  millions  of  crowns?"  he  gasped. 

"Yes;  what  would  your  Majesty  say  to  such  a 
proposition  ?"  complacently. 

"I  should  say,"  answered  the  king,  with  a  nerv- 
ous laugh,  "that  my  friend  had  lost  his  senses, 
completely  and  totally." 

"The  fact  is,"  the  Englishman  declared,  "they 
were  never  keener  nor  more  lucid  than  at  this  pres- 
ent moment." 

"But  five  millions!" 

"Five  millions;  a  bagatelle,"  smiling. 

"Certainly  you  can  not  be  serious,  and  if  you 
were,  it  is  out  of  the  question.  Death  of  my  life ! 
The  kingdom  would  be  at  my  ears.  The  people 
would  shout  that  I  was  selling  out  to  the  English, 
that  I  was  putting  them  into  the  mill  to  grind 
for  English  sacks." 

"Your  Majesty  will  recollect  that  the  measure 
authorizing  this  loan  was  rather  a  peculiar  one. 
Five  millions  were  to  be  borrowed  indiscrim- 
14 


THE    PUPPET    CEOWN  15 

inately,  of  any  man  or  body  of  men  willing  to 
advance  the  money  on  the  securities  offered.  First 
come,  first  served,  was  not  written,  but  it  was  im- 
plied. It  was  this  which  roused  my  curiosity, 
or  cupidity,  if  you  will." 

"I  can  not  recollect  that  the  bill  was  as  you 
say,"  said  the  king,  frowning. 

"I  believe  you.  When  the  bill  came  to  you, 
you  were  not  expected  to  recollect  anything  but 
the  royal  signature.  Have  you  read  half  of  what 
you  have  signed  and  made  law?  No.  I  am  seri- 
ous. What  is  it  to  you  or  to  the  people,  who  secures 
this  public  mortgage,  so  long  as  the  money  is  forth- 
coming? I  desire  to  purchase  at  face  value  the 
twenty  certificates." 

"As  a  representative  of  England?" 

The  diplomat  smiled.  The  king's  political  ig- 
norance was  well  known.  "As  a  representative  of 
England,  Sire,  I  could  not  purchase  the  stubs 
from  which  these  certificates  are  cut.  And  then, 
as  I  remarked,  I  am  an  unfettered  agent  of  self. 
The  interest  at  two  per  cent,  will  be  a  fine  income 
.on  a  lump  of  stagnant  money.  Even  in  my  own 
country,  where  millionaires  are  so  numerous  as  to 
be  termed  common,  I  am  considered  a  rich  man. 
My  personal  property,  aside  from  my  estates,  is 
five  times  the  amount  of  the  loan.  A  mere  baga- 
telle, if  I  may  use  that  pleasantry." 

"Impossible,   impossible !"   cried   the  king,   start- 
ing to  his  feet,  while  a  line  of  worry  ran  across 
his  forehead..    He  strode  about  impatiently  slapping 
his  boots  with  the  riding  stick.     "It  is  impossible." 
"Why  do  you  say  impossible,  Sire  ?" 


16  THE    PUPPET    CROWN 

"I  can  not  permit  you  to  put  in  jeopardy  a 
quarter  of  a  million  pounds/'  forgetting  for  the 
moment  that  he  was  powerless. 

"Aha  !"  the  diplomat  cried  briskly.  "There  is, 
then,  beneath  your  weariness  and  philosophy,  a 
fear?" 

"A  fear?"  With  an  effort  the  king  smoothed 
the  line  from  his  forehead.  "Why  should  there  be 
fear?" 

"Why  indeed,  when  our  cousin  Josef "  He 

stopped  and  looked  toward  the  mountains. 

"Well?"  abruptly. 

"I  was  thinking  what  a  fine  coup  de  maitre  it 
would  be  for  his  Highness  to  gather  in  all  these 
pretty  slips  of  parchment  given  under  the  hand 
of  Leopold." 

"Small  matter  if  he  should.  I  should  pay 
him."  The  king  sat  down.  "And  it  is  news  to 
me  that  Josef  can  get  together  five  millions." 

"He  has  friends,  rich  and  powerful  friends." 

"No  matter,  I  should  pay  him." 

"Are  you  quite  sure?" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"The  face  of  the  world  changes  in  the  course  of 
ten  years.  Will  there  be  five  millions  in  your 
treasury  ten  years  hence?" 

"The  wealth  of  my  kingdom  is  not  to  be  ques- 
tioned," proudly,  "nor  its  resources." 

"But  in  ten  years,  with  the  ministers  you  have?" 
The  Englishman  shrugged  doubtfully.  "Why  have 
you  not  formed  a  new  cabinet  of  younger  men? 
Why  have  you  retained  those  of  your  predecessor, 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN  17 

who  are  your  natural  enemies?  You  have  tried 
and  failed." 

The  expression  of  weariness  returned  to  the 
king's  face.  He  knew  that  all  this  was  but  a  pre- 
amble to  something  of  deeper  significance.  He  an- 
ticipated what  was  forming  in  the  other's  mind, 
but  he  wished  to  avoid  a  verbal  declaration.  0, 
he  knew  that  there  was  a  net  of  intrigue  enmesh- 
ing him,  but  it  was  so  very  fine  that  he  could  not 
pick  up  the  smallest  thread  whereby  to  unravel 
it.  Down  in  his  soul  he  felt  the  shame  of  the 
knowledge  that  he  dared  not.  A  dreamer,  rush- 
ing toward  the  precipice,  would  rather  fall  dream- 
ing than  waken  and  struggle  futilely. 

"My  friend,"  he  said,  finally,  sighing,  "proceed. 
I  am  all  attention." 

"I  never  doubted  your  Majesty's  perspicacity. 
You  do  not  know,  but  you  suspect,  what  I  am 
about  to  disclose  to  you.  My  hope  is  that,  when 
I  am  done,  your  Majesty  will  throw  Kant  and  the 
rest  of  your  philosophers  out  of  the  window.  The 
people  are  sullen  at  the  mention  of  your  name, 
while  they  cheer  another.  There  is  an  astonish- 
ing looseness  about  your  revenues.  The  reds  and 
the  socialists  plot  for  revolution  and  a  republic, 
which  is  a  thin  disguise  for  a  certain  restoration. 
Your  cousin  the  duke  visits  you  publicly  twice 
each  year.  He  has  been  in  the  city  a  week  at  a 
time  incognito,  yet  your  minister  of  police  seems 
to  know  nothing."  The  speaker  ceased,  and  fondled 
the  dahlia  in  his  button-hole. 

The  king,  noting  the  action,  construed  it  as  the 
subtle  old  diplomat  intended  he  should.  "Yes, 


18  THE    PUPPET    CROWN 

yes !     I  am  a  king  only  for  her  sake.     Go  on.     Tell 
me  all." 

"The  archbishop  and  the  chancellor  are  the  only 
friends  you  possess.  The  Marshal,  from  personal 
considerations  merely,  remains  neutral.  Your  army, 
excepting  the  cuirassiers,  are  traitors  to  your  house. 
The  wisest  thing  you  have  done  was  to  surround 
yourself  with  this  mercenary  body,  whom  you  call 
the  royal  cuirassiers,  only,  instead  of  three  hun- 
dred, you  should  have  two  thousand.  Self-interest 
will  make  them  true  to  you.  You  might  find  some 
means  to  pay  them,  for  they  would  be  a  good  buf- 
fer between  you  and  your  enemies.  The  presi- 
dent of  the  Diet  and  the  members  are  passing  bilb, 
which  will  eventually  undermine  you.  How  long 
it  will  take  I  can  not  say.  But  this  last  folly,  the 
loan,  which  you  could  have  got  on  without, 
caps  the  climax.  The  duke  was  in  the  city  last 
week  unknown  to  you.  Your  minister  of  finance1 
is  his  intimate.  This  loan  was  a  connivance  of 
them  all.  Why  ten  years,  when  it  could  easily 
be  liquidated  in  five?  I  shall  tell  you.  The  duke 
expects  to  force  you  into  bankruptcy  within  that 
time,  and  when  the  creditor  demands  and  you  can 
not  pay,  you  will  be  driven  from  here  in  disgrace. 

"And  where  will  you  go?  Certainly  not  to 
Osia,  since  you  traded  it  for  this  throne.  It  was 
understood,  when  you  assumed  the  reign,  that  the 
finances  of  the  kingdom  would  remain  unim- 
peachable. Bankrupt,  the  confederation  will  b« 
forced  to  disavow  you.  They  will  be  compelled  to 
restore  the  throne  to  your  enemy,  who,  believe  me, 
is  most  anxious  to  become  vour  creditor. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  19 

"This  is  an  independent  state, — conditionally. 
The  confederation  have  formed  themselves  into  a 
protectorate.  Why?  1  can  only  guess.  One  or 
more  of  them  covet  these  beautiful  lands.  What  arc 
ten  years  to  Josef,  when  a  crown  is  the  goal  ?  Your 
revenues  are  slowly  to  decline,  there  will  be  in- 
ternal troubles  to  eat  up  what  money  you  have 
in  the  treasury.  0,  it  is  a  plot  so  fine,  so  swiftly 
conceived,  so  cunningly  devised  that  I  would  I  were 
twenty  years  younger,  to  fight  it  with  you !  But 
I  am  old.  My  days  for  acting  are  past.  I  can 
only  advise.  He  was  sure  of  his  quarry,  this 
Josef  whose  hair  is  of  many  colors.  Had  you 
applied  to  the  money  syndicates  of  Europe,  the 
banks  of  England,  France,  Germany,  or  Austria, 
your  true  sponsor,  the  result  would  always  be  the 
same:  your  ruin.  Covertly  I  warned  you  not  to 
sign;  you  laughed  and  signed.  A  trap  was  there, 
your  own  hand  opened  it.  How  they  must  have 
laughed  at  you!  If  you  attempt  to  repudiate  your 
signature  the  Diet  has  power  to  overrule  you. 

"Truly,  the  shade  of  Macchiavelli  masks  in  the 
garb  of  your  cousin.  I  admire  the  man's  genius. 
This  is  his  throne  by  right  of  inheritance.  I  do  not 
blame  him.  Only,  I  wish  to  save  you.  If  you 
were  alone,  why,  I  do  not  say  that  I  should  trouble 
myself,  for  you  yourself  would  not  be  troubled. 
But  I  have  grown  to  love  that  child  of  yours.  It 
is  all  for  her.  Do  you  now  understand  why  I  make 
the  request?  It  appears  Quixotic?  Not  at  all. 
Put  my  money  in  jeopardy?  Xot  while  the  king- 
dom exist?.  If  you  can  not  pay  back,  your  king- 
dom will.  Perhaps  you  ask  what  is  the  difference, 


20  THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

whether  I  or  the  duke  becomes  your  creditor? 
This:  in  ten  years  I  shall  be  happy  to  renew  the 
loan.  In  ten  years,  if  I  am  gone,  there  will  bi> 
my  son.  You  wonder  why  I  do  this.  I  repeat  it 
is  for  your  daughter.  And  perhaps,"  with  a  dry 
smile,  "it  is  because  I  have  no  love  for  Josef." 

"I  will  defeat  him!"  cried  the  king,  a  fire  at 
last  shining  in  his  eyes. 

"You  will  not." 

"I  will  appeal  to  the  confederation  and  inform 
them  of  the  plot." 

"The  resource  of  a  child!  They  would  laugh 
at  you  for  your  pains.  For  they  are  too  proud  of 
their  prowess  in  statecraft  to  tolerate  a  suspicion 
that  your  cousin  is  a  cleverer  man  than  all  of 
them  put  together.  There  remains  only  one  thing 
for  you  to  do." 

"And  what  is  that?"  wearily. 

"Accept  my  friendship  at  its  true  value." 

The  king  made  no  reply.  He  set  his  elbows  on 
the  arms  of  the  rustic  seat,  interlaced  his  fingers 
and  rested  his  chin  on  them,  while  his  booted  legs 
slid  out  before  him.  His  meditation  lengthened 
into  several  minutes.  The  diplomat  evinced  no 
sign  of  impatience. 

"Come  with  me,"  said  the  king,  rising  quickly. 
"I  will  no  longer  dream.  I  will  act.  Come." 

The  diplomat  nodded  approvingly;  and  together 
they  marched  toward  the  palace.  The  bulldog 
trotted  on  behind,  his  pink  tongue  lolling  out  of 
his  black  mouth,  a  white  tusk  or  two  gleaming 
on  each  side.  The  Lieutenant  of  the  cuirassier? 
saluted  as  they  passed  him,  and,  when  they  had 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN  21 

gone  some  distance,  swung  in  behind.  He  observed 
with  some  concern  that  his  Majesty  was  much  agi- 
tated. 

The  business  of  the  kingdom,  save  that  per- 
formed in  the  Diet,  was  accomplished  in  the  east 
wing  of  the  palace;  the  king's  apartments,  aside 
from  the  state  rooms,  occupied  the  west  wing.  It 
was  to  the  business  section  that  the  king  conducted 
the  diplomat.  In  the  chamber  of  finance  its  min- 
ister was  found  busy  at  his  desk.  He  glanced  up 
casually,  but  gave  an  ejaculation  of  surprise  when 
he  perceived  who  his  visitors  were. 

"0,  your  Majesty !"  he  cried,  bobbing  up  and 
running  out  his  chair.  "Good  afternoon,  your  Ex- 
cellency," to  the  Englishman,  adjusting  his  gold- 
rimmed  glasses,  through  which  his  eyes  shone  pale 
and  cold. 

The  diplomat  bowed.  The  little  man  reminded 
him  of  M.  Thiers,  that  effervescence  of  soda  tinc- 
tured with  the  bitterness  of  iron.  He  understood 
the  distrust  which  Count  von  Wallenstein  enter- 
tained for  him,  but  he  was  not  distrustful  of  the 
count.  Distrust  implies  uncertainty,  and  the  En- 
glishman was  not  the  least  uncertain  as  to  his  con- 
ception of  this  gentleman  of  finance. 

There  were  few  men  whom  the  count  could  not 
interpret;  one  stood  before  him.  He  could  not 
comprehend  why  England  had  sent  so  astute  a 
diplomat  and  politician  to  a  third-rate  kingdom. 
Of  that  which  we  can  not  understand  we  are  aus- 
picious, and  the  guilty  are  distrustful.  Neither 
the  minister  of  police  nor  his  subordinates  could 


22  THE     PUPPET     CEOWN 

fathom  the  purpose  of  this  calm,  dignified  old  man 
with  the  difficult  English  name. 

"Count,"  began  the  king,  pleasantly,  "his  Ex- 
cellency here  has  made  a  peculiar  request." 

"And  what  might  that  be,  Sire?" 

"He  offers  to  purchase  the  entire  number  of  cer- 
tificates issued  to-day  for  our  loan." 

"Five  millions  of  crowns?"  The  minister's  as- 
tonishment was  so  genuine  that  in  jerking  back 
his  head  his  glasses  slipped  from  his  nose  and  dan- 
gled on  the  string. 

The  Englishman  bowed  again,  the  wrinkle  of  a 
smile  on  his  face. 

"I  would  not  believe  him  serious  at  first,  count," 
said  the  king,  laughing  easily,  "but  he  assured 
me  that  he  is.  What  can  be  done  about  it?" 

"0,  your  Majesty,"  cried  the  minister,  excitedly, 
"it  would  not  be  politic.  And  then  the  measure — ' 

"Is  it  possible  that  I  have  misconstrued  its  im- 
port?" the  diplomat  interposed  with  a  fine  air  of 
surprise. 

"You  are  familiar — "  began  the  count,  hesitat- 
ingly. 

"Perfectly;  that  is,  I  believe  so." 

"But  England—" 

"Has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  matter. 
Something  greater,  which  goes  by  the  name  of  self- 
interest." 

"Ah,"  said  the  count,  his  wrinkles  relaxing; 
"then  it  is  on  your  own  responsibility?" 

"Precisely." 

"But  five  millions  of  crowns — two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  pounds!"  The  minister  could  not 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWX  23 

compose  himself.  "This  is  a  vast  sum  of  money. 
We  expected  not  an  individual,  but  a  syndicate,  to 
accept  our  securities,  to  become  debtors  to  the  vari- 
ous banks  on  the  continent.  But  a  personal  af- 
fair !  Five  millions  of  crowns !  The  possibilities 
of  your  wealth  overwhelm  me." 

The  Englishman  smiled.  "I  dare  say  I  have 
more  than  my  share  of  this  world's  goods.  I  can 
give  you  a  check  for  the  amount  on  the  bank  of 
England." 

"Your  Majesty's  lamented  predecessor — " 

"Is  dead,"  said  the  king  gently.  He  had  no 
desire  to  hear  the  minister  recount  that  ruler's 
virtues.  "Peace  to  his  ashes." 

"Five  millions  of  crowns !"  The  minister  had 
lost  his  equipoise  in  the  face  of  the  Englishman's 
great  riches,  of  which  hitherto  he  had  held  some 
doubts.  Suddenly  a  vivid  thought  entered  his  con- 
fused brain.  The  paper  cutter  in  his  hand  trem- 
bled. In  the  breathing  space  allowed  him  he  be- 
gan to  calculate  rapidly.  The  king  and  the  diplo- 
mat had  been  in  the  garden ;  something  had  passed 
between  them.  What?  The  paper  cutter  slowly 
ceased  its  uneven  movements.  The  count  calmly 

placed  it  behind  the  inkwells The 

Englishman  knew.  The  glitter  of  gold  gave  way 
to  the  thought  of  the  peril.  A  chasm  yawned  at 
his  feet.  But  he  was  an  old  soldier  in  the  game 
of  words  and  cross-purposes. 

"We  should  be  happy  to  accord  you  the  privilege 
of  becoming  the  kingdom's  creditor,"  he  said, 
smiling  at  the  diplomat,  whom  nothing  had  es- 
caped. "I  am  afraid,  however,  that  your  request  has 


24  THE    PUPPET     CKOWN 

been  submitted  too  late.  At  ten  o'clock  this  morning 
the  transfer  of  the  certificates  would  have  been 
a  simple  matter.  There  are  twenty  in  all;  it  may 
not  be  too  late  to  secure  some  of  them."  He 
looked  tranquilly  from  the  Englishman  to  the 
king. 

The  smiling  mask  fell  from  the  king's  face;  he 
felt  that  he  was  lost.  He  tried  to  catch  his 
friend's  eye,  but  the  diplomat  was  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  console  of  the  fireplace. 

"They  seem  to  be  at  a  premium,"  the  English- 
man said,  "which  speaks  well  for  the  prosperity 
of  the  country.  I  am  sorry  to  have  troubled  you." 

"It  would  have  been  a  pleasure  indeed,"  replied 
the  count.  He  stood  secure  within  his  fortress, 
so  secure  that  he  would  have  liked  to  laugh. 

"It  is  too  bad,"  said  the  king,  pulling  his 
thoughts  together. 

"Your  Majesty  is  giving  the  matter  too  much 
importance,"  said  the  diplomat.  "It  was  merely  a 
whim.  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  and  honor  of 
presenting  my  successor  this  evening." 

The  count  bent  low,  while  the  king  nodded  ab- 
sently. He  was  thinking  that  a  penful  of  ink, 
carelessly  trailed  over  a  sheet  of  paper,  had  lost 
him  his  throne.  He  was  about  to  draw  the  ami 
of  the  diplomat  through  his  own,  when  his  step 
was  arrested  by  the  entrance  of  a  messenger  who 
presented  a  letter  to  the  minister  of  finance. 

"With  your  Majesty's  permission,"  he  said,  tear- 
ing open  the  envelope.  As  he  read  the  content?, 
his  shoulders  sank  to  their  habitual  stoop  and 
benignity  once  more  shone  in  the  place  of  alert- 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  25 

ness.  "Decidedly,  fate  is  not  with  your  Excellency 
to-day.  M.  Jacobi  writes  me  that  four  millions 
have  already  been  disposed  of  to  M.  Everard  & 
Co.,  English  bankers  in  the  Konigstrasse,  who 
are  representing  a  French  firm  in  this  particular 
instance.  I  am  very  sorry." 

"It  is  of  no  moment  now,"  replied  the  English- 
man indifferently. 

The  adverb  which  concluded  this  declaration 
caught  the  keen  ear  of  the  minister,  who  grew 
tall  again.  What  would  he  not  have  given  to 
read  the  subtle  brain  of  his  opponent,  for  oppo- 
nent he  knew  him  to  be !  His  intense  scrutiny 
was  blocked  by  a  pair  of  most  innocent  eyes. 

"Well,"  said  the  king  impatiently,  "let  us  be 
gone,  my  friend.  The  talk  of  money  always  leaves 
a  copperish  taste  on  my  tongue." 

Arm  in  arm  they  passed  from  the  chamber. 
AVhen  the  door  closed  behind  them,  the  min- 
ister of  finance  drew  his  handkerchief  across  his 
brow. 

"Everard  &  Co.,"  mused  the  Englishman  aloud. 
"Was  it  not  indeed  a  stroke  for  your  cousin  to 
select  them  as  his  agents?  You  will  in  truth  be 
accused  of  selling  out  to  the  English.  But  there 
is  a  coincidence  in  all  this." 

"I  am  lost!"  said  the  king. 

"On  the  contrary,  you  are  saved.  Everard  & 
Co.  are  my  bankers  and  attorneys;  in  fact,  I  own 
an  interest  in  the  firm." 

"What  is  this  you  tell  me?"  cried  the  king. 

"Sire,  we  English  have  a  peculiar  trait;  it  is 
asking  for  something  after  we  have  taken  it.  The 


26  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

human  countenance  is  a  fine  picture  book.  I 
should  like  to  read  that  belonging  to  your  cousin 
Josef,  providing  I  could  read  unobserved." 

"My  friend !"  said  the  king. 

"Say  nothing.  Here  is  the  bulldog;  take  him 
to  her  Royal  Highness  with  my  compliments.  There 
is  no  truer  friend  than  an  animal  of  his  breed. 
He  is  steadfast  in  his  love,  for  he  makes  but  few 
friends;  he  is  a  good  companion,  for  he  is  un- 
demonstrative-; he  can  read  and  draw  inferences, 
and  your  enemies  will  be  his.  I  shall  bid  you 
good  afternoon.  God  be  with  your  Majesty." 

"Ah,  to  lose  you  now!"  said  the  king,  a  heavi- 
ness in  his  heart  such  as  presentiment  brings. 

The  diplomat  turned  and  went  down  the  grand 
corridor.  The  bulldog  tugged  at  his  chain.  Ani- 
mals are  gifted  with  prescience.  He  knew  that 
his  master  had  passed  forever  out  of  his  life. 
Presently  he  heard  the  voice  of  the  princess  call- 
ing; and  the  glamour  of  royalty  encompassed 
him, — something  a  human  finds  hard  to  resist,  and 
he  was  only  a  dog. 

Meanwhile  another  messenger  had  entered  the 
chamber  of  finance  and  had  gone.  On  the  minister's 
desk  lay  a  crumpled  sheet  of  paper  on  which  was 
written : 

"Treason  and  treachery !  It  has  at  this  mo- 
ment been  ascertained  that,  while  pretending  to 
be  our  agents  in  securing  the  consols,  M.  Everard 
&  Co.  now  refuse  to  deliver  them  into  the  cus- 
tody of  Baron  von  Rumpf,  as  agreed;  and  fur- 
ther, that  M.  Everard  &  Co.  are  bankers  and  at- 


THE     PUPPET     CROWX  ?7 

torneys  to  his  Excellency  the  British  minister. 

He  must  not  leave  this  city  with  those  consols." 

With  his  eyes  riveted  on  these  words,  the  min- 
ister of  finance,  huddled  in  his  chair,  had  fallen 
into  a  profound  study. 

There  were  terrible  times  in  the  house  of  Josef 
that  night. 


CHAPTER  III 

AN    EPISODE   TEN   TEARS   AFTER 

One  fine  September  morning  in  a  year  the  date 
of  which  is  of  no  particular  importance,  a  man 
stepped  out  of  a  second-class  carriage  on  to  the 
canopied  platform  of  the  railway  terminus  in  the 
ancient  and  picturesque  city  of  Bleiberg.  He 
yawned,  shook  himself,  and  stretched  his  arms  and 
legs,  relieved  to  find  that  the  tedious  journey 
from  Vienna  had  not  cramped  those  appendages 
beyond  recovery. 

He  stood  some  inches  above  the  average  height, 
and  was  built  up  in  a  manner  that  suggested  the 
handiwork  of  a  British  drill-master,  his  figure 
being  both  muscular  and  symmetrical.  Besides, 
there  was  on  his  skin  that  rich  brown  shadow 
which  is  the  result  only  of  the  forces  of  the  snn 
and  wind,  a  life  in  the  open  air.  This  color  ga>v 
peculiar  emphasis  to  the  yellow  hair  and  mustache. 
His  face  was  not  handsome,  if  one  accept  the 
Greek  profile  as  a  model  of  manly  beauty,  but  it 
was  cleanly  and  boldly  cut,  healthful,  strong  and 
purposeful,  based  on  determined  jaws  and  a  chin 
which  would  have  been  obstinate  but  for  the  pres- 
ence of  a  kindly  mouth. 

A  guard  deposited  at  his  feet  a  new  hatbox,  a 
28 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  29 

battered  traveling  bag  and  two  gun  cases  which 
also  gave  evidence  of  rough  usage.  The  luggage 
was  literally  covered  with  mutilated  square  and 
oblong  slips  of  paper  of  many  colors,  on  which 
were  printed  the  advertisements  of  far-sighted 
hotel  keepers  all  the  way  from  Bombay  to  Lon- 
don and  half-way  back  across  the  continent. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  seen,  however,  indica- 
tive of  the  traveler's  name.  He  surveyed  his  sur- 
roundings with  lively  interest  shining  in  his 
gray  eyes,  one  of  which  peered  through  a  mon- 
ocle encircled  by  a  thin  rim  of  tortoise  shell.  He 
watched  the  fussy  customs  officials,  who,  by  some 
strange  mischance,  overlooked  his  belongings. 
Finally  he  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

"Find  me  a  cab,"  he  said  to  the  attentive  guard, 
who,  with  an  eye  to  the  main  chance,  had  waved 
off  the  approach  of  a  station  porter.  "If  the  in- 
spectors are  in  no  hurry,  I  am." 

"At  once,  my  lord;"  and  the  guard,  as  he 
stooped  and  lifted  the  luggage,  did  not  see  the 
start  which  this  appellation  caused  the  stranger  to 
make,  but  who,  after  a  moment,  was  convinced 
that  the  guard  had  given  him  the  title  merely  out 
of  politeness.  The  guard  placed  the  traps  inside 
of  one  of  the  many  vehicles  stationed  at  the  street 
exit  of  the  terminus.  He  was  an  intelligent  and 
deductive  servant. 

The  traveler  was  some  noted  English  lord  who 
had  come  to  Bleiberg  to  shoot  the  famed  golden 
pheasant,  and  had  secured  a  second-class  compart- 
ment in  order  to  demonstrate  his  incognito.  Per- 
sons who  traveled  second-class  usually  did  so  to 


30  THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

save  money;  yet  this  tall  Englishman,  since  the 
train  departed  from  Vienna,  had  almost  doubled 
in  gratuities  thb  sum  paid  for  his  ticket.  The 
guard  stood  respectfully  at  the  door  of  the  cab, 
doffed  his  cap,  into  which  a  memento  was  dropped, 
and  went  along  about  his  business. 

The  Englishman  slammed  the  door,  the  jehu 
cracked  his  whip,  and  a  moment  later  the 
hoarse  breathings  of  the  motionless  engines  be- 
came lost  in  the>  sharper  noises  of  the  city  carts. 
The  unknown  leaned  against  the  faded  cushions, 
curled  his  mustache,  and  smiled  as  if  well  satisfied 
with  events.  It  is  quite  certain  that  his  sense  of 
ease  and  security  would  have  been  somewhat  dis- 
turbed had  he  known  that  another  cab  was  close 
on  the  •  track  of  his,  and  that  its  occupant,  an 
officer  of  the  city  gendarmerie,  alternately  smiled 
and  frowned  as  one  does  who  floats  between  con- 
viction and  uncertainty.  At  length  the  two  ve- 
hicles turned  into  the  Konigstrassc,  the  principal 
thoroughfare  of  the  capital,  and  here  the  English- 
man's cab  came  to  a  stand.  The  jehu  climbed 
down  and  opened  the  door. 

"Did  Herr  say  the  Continental?"  he  asked. 

"No;  the  Grand." 

The  driver  shrugged,  remounted  his  box,  and 
drove  on.  The  Grand  Hotel  was  clean  enough  and 
respectable,  but  that  was  all  that  could  be  said  in 
its  favor.  He  wondered  if  the  Englishman  would 
haggle  over  the  fare.  Englishmen  generally  did. 
He  was  agreeably  disappointed,  however,  when,  on 
arriving  at  the  mean  hostelry,  his  passenger 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  31 

plunged  a  hand  into  a  pocket  and  produced  three 
Franz-Josef  florins. 

"You  may  have  these,"  he  said,  "for  the  trouble 
of  having  them  exchanged  into  crowns." 

As  he  whipped  up,  the  philosophical  cabman  mused 
that  these  tourists  were  beyond  the  pale  of  his  un- 
derstanding. With  a  pocket  full  of  money,  and 
to  put  up  at  the  Grand!  Why  not  the  Conti- 
nental, which  lay  close  to  the  Werter  See,  the  pal- 
aces, the  royal  and  public  gardens?  It  was  at 
the  Continental  that  the  fine  ladies  and  gentle- 
men from  Vienna,  and  Innsbruck,  and  Munich, 
and  Belgrade,  resided  during  the  autumn  months. 
But  the  Grand — ach !  it  was  in  the  heart  of  the 
shops  and  markets,  and  within  a  stone's  throw  of 
that  gloomy  pile  of  granite  designated  in  the  vari- 
ous guide  books  as  the  University  of  Bleiberg. 

The  Englishman  had  some  difficulty  in  finding 
a  pen  that  would  write,  and  the  ink  was  oily, 
and  the  guest-book  was  not  at  the  proper  angle.  At 
last  he  managed  to  form  the  letters  of  his  name, 
which  was  John  Hamilton.  After  some  deliber- 
ation, he  followed  this  with  "England."  The  pro- 
prietor, who  acted  as  his  own  clerk,  drew  the  book 
toward  him,  and  after  some  time,  deciphered  the 
cabalistic  signs. 

"Ah,  Herr  John  Hamilton  of  England;  is  that 
right?" 

"Yes;  I  am  here  for  a  few  days'  shooting. 
Can  you  find  me  a  man  to  act  as  guide?" 

"This  very  morning,  Herr." 

"Thanks." 

Then   he   proceeded  up   the   stairs  to  the   room 


32  THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

assigned  to  him.  The  smell  of  garlic  which  per- 
vaded the  air  caused  him  to  make  a  grimace. 
Once  alone  in  the  room,  he  looked  about.  There 
was  neither  soap  nor  towel,  but  there  was  a  card 
which  stated  that  the  same  could  be  purchased  at 
the  office.  He  laughed.  A  pitcher  of  water  and 
a  bowl  stood  on  a  small  table,  which,  by  the  pres- 
ence of  a  mirror  (that  could  not  in  truth  reflect 
anything  but  light  and  darkness),  served  as  a 
dresser.  These  he  used  to  good  advantage,  drying 
his  face  and  hands  on  the  white  counterpane  of 
the  bed,  and  laughing  quietly  as  he  did  so.  Next 
he  lit  a  pipe,  whose  capacity  for  tobacco  was  rather 
less  than  that  of  a  lady's  thimble,  sat  in  a  chair 
by  the  window,  smoked  quietly,  and  gazed  down 
on  the  busy  street. 

It  was  yet  early  in  the  morning;  sellers  of  veg- 
etables, men  and  women  peasants,  with  bare  legs 
and  wooden  shoes,  driving  shaggy  Servian  ponies 
attached  to  low,  cumbersome  carts,  passed  and  re- 
passed,  to  and  from  the  markets.  A  gendarme, 
leaning  the  weight  of  his  shoulder  on  the  guard 
of  a  police  saber,  rested  against  the  corner  of  a 
wine  shop  across  the  way.  Students,  wearing 
squat  caps  with  vizors,  sauntered  indolently  along, 
twirling  canes  and  ogling  all  who  wore  petticoats. 
Occasionally  the  bright  uniform  of  a  royal  cuirassier 
flashed  by;  and  the  Englishman  would  lean  over 
the  sill  and  gaze  after  him,  nodding  his  head  in 
approval  whenever  the  cuirassier  sat  his  horse  well. 

In  the  meantime  the  gendarme,  who  followed 
him  from  the  station,  had  entered  the  hotel, 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN  33 

hastily  glanced  at  the  freshly  written  name,  and 
made  off  toward  the  palace. 

"Well,  here  we  are,"  mused  the  Englishman, 
pressing  his  thumb  into  the  bowl  of  his  pipe. 
"The  affair  promises  some  excitement.  To-morrow 
will  be  the  sixth ;  on  the  twentieth  it  will  be  a  closed 
incident,  as  the  diplomats  would  say.  I  don't  know 
what  brought  me  here  so  far  ahead  of  time.  I 
suppose  I  must  look  out  for  a  crack  on  the  head 
from  some  one  I  don't  know,  but  who  knows  me 
so  deuced  well  that  he  has  hunted  me  in  India 
and  England,  first  with  fine  bribes,  then  with 
threats."  He  glanced  over  his  shoulder  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  gun  cases.  "It  was  a  capital  idea, 
otherwise  a  certain  ubiquitous  customs  official,  who 
lies  in  wait  for  the  unwary  at  the  frontier,  would 
now  be  an  inmate  of  a  hospital.  To  have  lived 
thirty-five  years,  and  to  have  ground  out  thirteen 
of  them  in  her  Majesty's,  is  to  have  acquired  a 
certain  disdain  for  danger,  even  when  it  is  masked. 
I  am  curious  to  see  how  far  these  threats  will  go. 
It  will  take  a  clever  man  to  trap  me.  The  incog- 
nito is  a  fort.  By  the  way,  I  wonder  how  the  in- 
spectors at  the  station  came  to  overlook  my  traps? 
Strange,  considering  what  I  have  gone  through." 

At  this  moment  the  knuckles  of  a  hand  bear 
against  the  door. 

"Come  in !"  answered  the  Englishman,  wheel- 
ing his  chair,  but  making  no  effort  to  rise.  "Come 
in!" 

The  door  swung  in,  and  there  entered  a  short, 
spectacled  man  in  dark  gray  clothes  which  fairly 


34  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

bristled  with  brass  buttons.  He  was  the  chief  in- 
spector of  customs.  He  bowed. 

The  Englishman,  consternation  widening  his 
eyes,  lowered  his  pipe. 

"Monsieur  Hamilton's  pardon,"  the  inspector 
began,  speaking  in  French,  "but  with  your  per- 
mission I  shall  inspect  your  luggage  and  glance 
at  your  passports."  He  bowed  again. 

"Now  do  you  know,  mon  ami,7'  replied  the  En- 
glishman, "that  Monsieur  Hamilton  will  not  per- 
mit you  to  gaze  even  into  yonder  washbowl?"  He 
rose  lazily. 

"But,  Monsieur,"  cried  the  astonished  official,  to 
whom  non-complaisance  in  the  matter  of  inspec- 
tion was  unprecedented,  "you  certainly  will  not 
put  any  obstacle  in  the  path  of  my  duty !" 

"Your  duty,  Monsieur  the  Spectacles,  is  to  in- 
spect at  the  station.  There  your  assistants  refused 
to  award  me  their  attention.  You  are  trespass- 
ing." 

"Monsieur  forgets,"  sternly;  "it  is  the  law.  Is 
it  possible  that  I  shall  be  forced  to  call  in  the  gen- 
darmes to  assist  me?  This  is  extraordinary!" 

"I  dare  say  it  is,  on  your  part,"  admitted  the  En- 
glishman, polishing  the  bowl  of  his  pipe  against 
the  side  of  his  nose.  "You  had  best  go  at  once. 
If  you  do  not,  I  shall  take  you  by  the  nape  of 
your  Bleibergian  neck  and  kick  you  down  the 
stairs.  I  have  every  assurance  of  my  privileges. 
The  law  here,  unless  it  has  changed  within  the 
past  hour,  requires  inspection  at  the  frontier,  and 
at  the  capital;  but  your  jurisdiction  does  not  ex- 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWN  35 

tend  beyond  the  stations.  Bon  jour,  Monsieur  the 
Spectacles;  bon  jour!" 

"0,  Monsieur!" 

"Good  day!" 

"Monsieur,  it  is  my  duty;  I  must!" 

"Good  day !  How  will  you  go,  by  the  stairs  or 
by  the  window?  I — but  wait!"  an  idea  coming 
to  him  which  caused  him  to  reflect  on  the  possible 
outcome  of  violence  done  to  a  government  official, 
who,  perhaps,  was  discharging  his  peculiar  duty  at 
the  orders  of  superiors.  He  walked  swiftly  to  the 
door  and  slid  the  bolt,  to  the  terror  of  the  in- 
spector, on  whose  brow  drops  of  perspiration  began 
to  gather.  "Now,"  opening  the  hat  box  and  taking 
out  a  silk  hat,  "this  is  a  hat,  purchased  in  Paris; 
at  Cook's.  There  is  nothing  in  the  lining  but 
felt.  Look  into  the  box;  nothing.  Take  out  your 
book  and  follow  me  closely,"  he  continued,  divid- 
ing the  traveling  bag  into  halves,  and  he  began 
to  enumerate  the  contents. 

"But,  Monsieur!"  remonstrated  the  inspector, 
who  did  not  enjoy  this  infringement  of  his  pre- 
rogatives; his  was  the  part  to  overhaul.  "This 
is—" 

"Be  still  and  follow  me,"  and  the  Englishman 
went  on  with  the  inventory.  "There !"  when  he 
had  done,  "not  a  dutiable  thing  except  this  Ger- 
man-Scotch whisky,  and  that  is  so  bad  that  I  give 
it  to  you  rather  than  pay  duty.  What  next?  My 
passports?  Here  they  are,  absolutely  flawless, 
viskd  by  the  authorities  in  Vienna." 

The  slips  crackled  in  the  fluttering  fingers  of 
the  inspector.  "They  are  as  you  say,  Monsieur," 


3G  THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

he  said,  returning  the  permits.  Then  he  added 
timidly,  "And  the  gun  cases?" 

"The  gun  cases!"  The  pipe  spilled  its  coal  to 
the  floor.  "The  gun  cases!" 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"And  why  do  you  wish  to  look  into  them?" 
with  agitation. 

"Smugglers  sometimes  fill  them  with  cigars." 

"Ah!"  The  Englishman  selected  two  loaded 
shells,  drew  a  gun  from  the  case,  threw  up  the 
breech  and  rammed  in  the  shells.  Then  he  ex- 
tended the  weapon  to  within  an  inch  of  the  terrified 
inspector's  nose.  "Now,  Monsieur  the  Spectacles, 
look  in  there  and  tell  me  what  you  see." 

The  fellow  sank  half-fainting  into  a  chair.  "Mon 
Dieu,  Monsieur,  would  you  kill  me  who  have  a 
family?" 

"What's  a  customs  inspector,  more  or  less?" 
asked  the  terrible  islander,  laughing.  "I  advise 
you  not  to  ask  me  to  let  you  look  into  the  other 
gun,  out  of  consideration  for  your  family.  It  has 
hair  triggers,  and  my  fingers  tremble." 

"Monsieur,  Monsieur,  you  do  wrong  to  trifle 
with  the  law.  I  shall  be  obliged  to  report  you. 
You  will  be  arrested."  • 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,"  was  the  retort.  "I  have 
only  to  inform  the  British  minister  how  remiss 
you  were  in  your  obligations.  I  should  go  free, 
whereas  you  would  be  discharged.  But  what  I 
demand  to  know  is,  what  the  devil  is  the  meaning 
of  this  farce." 

"I  am  simply  obeying  orders,"  answered  the  in- 
spector, wiping  his  forehead.  "It  is  not  a  farce, 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN"  37 

a?  Monsieur  will  find."  Then,  as  if  to  excuse  this 
implied  threat:  "Will  Monsieur  please  point  the 
gun  the  other  way?" 

The  Englishman  unloaded  the  gun  and  tossed 
it  on  the  bed. 

"Thanks.  In  coming  here  I  simply  obeyed  the 
orders  of  the  minister  of  police." 

"And  what  in  the  world  did  you  expect  to  find?" 

"We  are  looking — that  is,  they  are  looking — 0, 
Monsieur,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  disclose  to 
you  my  government's  purposes." 

"What  and  whom  were  you  expecting?"  de- 
manded the  Englishman.  "You  shall  not  leave 
this  room  till  you  have  fully  explained  this  re- 
markable intrusion." 

"We  were  expecting  the  Lord  and  Baronet  Fitz- 
gerald." 

"The  lord!"  laughing.  "Does  the  lord  visit 
Bleiberg  often,  then,  that  you  prepare  this  sort  of 
a  reception?  And  the  Baronet  Fitzgerald?" 

"They  are  the  same  and  the  one  person." 

"And  who  the  deuce  is  he;  a  spy,  a  smuggler, 
a  villain,  or  what?" 

"As  to  that,  Monsieur,"  with  a  wonder  why  this 
man  laughed,  "I  know  no  more  than  you.  But 
I  do  know  that  for  the  past  month  every  English- 
man has  been  subjected  to  this  surveillance,  and 
has  submitted  with  more  grace  than  you,"  with  an 
oblique  glance. 

"What!     Examined  his  luggage  at  the  hotel?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur.  It  is  the  order  of  the  min- 
ister of  police.  I  know  not  why."  The  natural 
color  was  returning  to  his  cheeks. 


38  THE    PUPPET     CBOWN 

"This  is  a  fine  country,  I  must  say.  At  least 
the  king  should  acquaint  his  visitors  with  the 
true  cause  of  this  treatment."  In  his  turn  the 
Englishman  resorted  to  oblique  glances. 

"The  king?"  The  inspector  raised  a  shoulder 
and  spread  his  hands.  "The  king  is  a  paralytic, 
Monsieur,  and  has  little  to  say  these  days." 

"A  paralytic?  I  thought  he  was  called  'the 
handsome  monarch'?" 

"That  was  years  ago,  Monsieur.  For  three  years 
he  has  been  helpless  and  bedridden.  The  arch- 
bishop is  the  real  king  nowadays.  But  he  med- 
dles not  with  the  police." 

"This  is  very  sad.  I  suppose  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  strangers  to  see  him  now." 

"An  audience?"  a  sparkle  behind  the  spectacles. 
"Is  your  business  with  the  king,  Monsieur?" 

"My  business  is  mine,"  shortly.  "I  am  only  a 
tourist,  and  should  have  liked  to  see  the  king 
from  mere  curiosity.  However,  had  you  explained 
all  this  to  me,  I  should  not  have  caused  you  so 
many  gray  hairs." 

"Monsieur  did  not  give  me  the  chance,"  simply. 

"True,"  the  Englishman  replied  soberly.  He  be- 
gan to  think  that  he  had  been  over  hasty  in  as- 
serting his  privileges.  "But  all  this  has  nothing 
to  do  with  me.  My  name  is  John  Hamilton.  See, 
it  is  engraved  on  the  stock  of  the  gun,"  catching 
it  up  and  holding  it  under  the  spectacled  eyes, 
which  still  observed  it  with  some  trepidation. 
"That  is  the  name  in  my  passports,  in  the  book 
down  stairs,  in  the  lining  of  my  hat.  I  am  sorry, 
since  you  were  only  obeying  orders,  that  my  rough 


39 


play  has  caused  you  alarm."  He  unbolted  the 
door.  "Good  morning." 

The  inspector  left  the  room  as  swiftly  as  his 
short  legs  could  carry  him,  ignoring  the  ethics  of 
common  politeness.  As  he  stumbled  down  the 
stairs  he  cursed  the  minister  of  police  for  requiring 
this  spy  work  of  him,  and  not  informing  him  why 
it  was  done.  Ah,  these  cursed  Anglais  from  An- 
gleterre !  They  were  all  alike,  and  this  one  was 
the  worst  he  had  ever  encountered.  And  those  ugly 
black  orifices  in  the  gun !  Peste !  He  would  re- 
sign !  Yes,  certainly  he  would  resign. 

As  to  the  Englishman,  he  stood  in  the  center 
of  the  room  and  scratched  his  head.  "Hang  it, 
I've  made  an  ass  of  myself.  That  blockhead  will 
have  the  gendarmes  about  my  ears.  If  they  arrest 
me  there  will  be  the  devil  to  pay.  The  Lord  and 
the  Baronet  Fitzgerald !"  he  repeated.  He  sat 
down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  and  fell  to  laughing 
again.  "Confound  these  picture-book  kingdoms! 
They  always  take  themselves  so  seriously.  Well, 
if  the  gendarmes  call  this  afternoon  I'll  not  be 
at  home.  No,  thank  you.  I  shall  be  hunting 
pheasants." 

And  thereat  he  set  to  work  cleaning  the  gun 
which  had  all  but  prostrated  the  inspector.  Soon 
the  room  smelled  of  oiled  rags  and  tobacco.  Some- 
times the  worker  whistled  softly.  Sometimes  he 
let  the  gun  fall  against  his  knee,  and  stared  dream- 
ily through  the  window  at  the  flight  of  the  ragged 
clouds.  Again,  he  would  shake  his  head,  as  if 
there  were  something  which  he  failed  to  under- 


4.0  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

stand.  Half  an  hour  passed,  when  again  some  one 
knocked  on  the  door. 

"Come  in!"  Under  his  breath  he  added:  "The 
gendarmes,  likely." 

But  it  was  only  tha  proprietor  of  the  hotel. 
"Asking  Herr's  pardon,"  he  said,  "for  this  intru- 
sion, but  I  have  secured  a  man  for  you.  I  have 
the  honor  to  recommend  Johann  Kopf  as  a  good 
guide  and  hunter." 

"Send  him  up.     If  he  pleases  me,  I'll  use  him." 

The  proprietor  withdrew. 

Johann  Kopf  proved  to  be  a  young  German  with 
a  round,  ruddy  face,  which  was  so  innocent  of 
guile  as  to  be  out  of  harmony  with  the  shrewd, 
piercing  black  eyes  looking  out  of  it.  The  En- 
glishman eyed  him  inquisitively,  even  suspiciously. 

"Are  you  a  good  hunter?"  he    asked. 

"There  is  none  better  hereabout,"  answered  Jo- 
hann, twirling  his  cap  with  noticeably  white  fin- 
gers. It  was  only  in  after  days  that  the  English- 
man appreciated  the  full  significance  of  this  an- 
swer. 

"Speak  English?" 

"No.     Herr's  German  is  excellent,  however." 

"Humph !"  The  Englishman  gave  a  final  glance 
into  the  shining  tubes  of  the  gun,  snapped  the 
breach,  and  slipped  it  into  the  case.  "You'll  do. 
Return  to  the  office;  I'll  be  down  presently." 

"Will  Herr  hunt  this  morning?" 

"No;  what  I  wish  this  morning  is  to  see  the 
city  of  Bleiberg." 

"That   is   simple,"   said  Johann.     The  fleeting, 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  41 

imperceptible  smile  did  not  convict  his  eyes  of 
false  keenness. 

He  bowed  out.  When  the  door  closed  the  En- 
glishman waited  until  the  sound  of  retreating  steps 
failed.  Then  he  took  the  gun  case  which  he  had 
not  yet  opened,  and  thrust  it  under  the  mattress 
of  the  bed. 

"Johann,"  he  said,  as  he  put  on  a  soft  hat  and 
drew  a  cane  from  the  straps  of  the  traveling  bag, 
"you  will  certainly  precede  me  in  our  hunting  ex- 
peditions. I  do  not  like  your  eyes;  they  are  not 
at  home  in  your  boyish  face.  Humph !  what  a 
country.  Every  one  speaks  a  different  tongue." 

The  city  of  Bleiberg  lay  on  a  hill  and  in  the 
valleys  which  fell  away  to  the  east  and  west.  It 
was  divided  into  two  towns,  the  upper  and  the 
lower.  The  upper  town  and  that  part  which  lay 
on  the  shores  of  the  Werter  See  was  the  modern 
and  fashionable  district.  It  was  here  that  the 
king  and  the  archbishop  had  their  palaces  and  the 
wealthy  their  brick  and  stone.  The  public  park 
skirted  the  lake,  and  was  patterned  after  those  fine 
gardens  which  add  so  much  to  the  picturcsquencss 
of  Vienna  and  Berlin.  There  were  wide  gravel 
paths  and  long  avenues  of  lofty  chestnuts  and  lin- 
dens, iron  benches,  fountains  and  winding  flower 
beds.  The  park,  the  palaces,  and  the  Continental 
Hotel  enclosed  a  public  square,  paved  with  asphalt, 
called  the  Hohenstaufcnplatz,  in  the  center  of  which 
rose  a  large  marble  fountain  of  several  streams, 
guarded  by  huge  bronze  wolves.  Here,  too,  were 
iron  benches  which  were,  for  the  most  part,  the 
meeting-place  of  the  nursemaids.  Carriages  were 


42 


allowed  to  make  the  circuit,  but  not  to  obstruct  the 
way. 

The  Konigstrasse  began  at  the  Platz,  divided 
the  city,  and  wound  away  southward,  merging 
into  the  highway  which  continued  to  the  Thalian 
Alps,  some  thirty  miles  distant.  The  palaces  were 
at  the  southeast  corner  of  the  Platz,  first  the 
king's,  then  the  archbishop's.  The  private  gardens 
of  each  ran  into  the  lake.  Directly  across  from 
the  palaces  stood  the  cathedral,  a  relic  of  five  cen- 
turies gone.  On  the  northwest  corner  stood  the 
Continental  Hotel,  with  terrace  and  parapet  at  the 
water's  edge,  and  a  delightful  open-air  cafe  facing 
the  Platz.  September  and  October  were  prosper- 
ous months  in  Bleiberg.  Fashionable  people  who 
desired  quiet  made  Bleiberg  an  objective  point. 
The  pheasants  were  plump,  there  were  boars,  gray 
wolves,  and  not  infrequently  Monsieur  Fourpaws 
of  the  shaggy  coat  wandered  across  from  the  Car- 
pathians. 

As  to  the  lower  town,  it  was  given  over  to  the 
shops  and  markets,  the  barracks,  the  university,  and 
the  Kathhaus,  which  served  as  the  house  of  the 
Diet.  It  was  full  of  narrow  streets  and  quaint 
dwellings. 

Up  the  Konigstrasse  the  guide  led  the  English- 
man, who  nodded  whenever  the  voluble  chatter  of 
the  German  pleased  him.  When  they  began  the 
descent  of  the  hill,  the  vista  which  opened  before 
them  drew  from  the  Englishman  an  ejaculation 
of  delight.  There  lay  the  lake,  like  a  bright  new 
coin  in  a  green  purse;  the  light  of  the  sun  broke 


43 


on  the  white  buildings  and  flashed  from  the  win- 
dows; and  the  lawns  twinkled  like  emeralds, 

"It  makes  Vienna  look  to  her  laurels,  eh,  Herr?" 
said  Johann. 

"But  it  must  have  cost  a  pretty  penny." 

"Aye,  that  it  did;  and  the  king  is  heing  im- 
pressed with  that  fact  every  day.  There  are  few 
such  fine  palaces  outside  of  first-class  kingdoms. 
The  cathedral  there  was  erected  at  the  desire  of 
a  pope,  born  five  hundred  years  ago.  It  is  full 
of  romance.  There  is  to  be  a  grand  wedding  there 
on  the  twentieth  of  this  month.  That  is  why  there 
are  so  many  fashionable  people  at  the  hotels.  The 
crown  prince  of  Carnavia,  which  is  the  large  king- 
dom just  east  of  us,  is  to  wed  the  Princess  Alexia, 
the  daughter  of  the  king." 

"On  the  twentieth?    That  is  strange." 

"Strange?" 

"0,  I  meant  nothing,"  said  the  Englishman, 
jerking  back  his  shoulders;  "I  had  in  mind  an- 
other affair." 

There  was  a  flash  in  Johann's  eyes,  but  he  sub- 
dued it  before  the  Englishman  was  aware  of  its 
presence.  "However,"  said  Johann,  "there  is  some- 
thing strange.  The  prince  was  to  have  arrived  a 
week  ago  to  complete  the  final  arrangements  for 
the  wedding.  His  suite  has  been  here  a  week,  but 
no  sign  of  his  Highness.  He  stopped  over  a  train 
at  Ehrenstein  to  visit  for  a  few  hours  a  friend  of 
the  king,  his  father.  Since  then  nothing  has  been 
heard  from  him.  The  king,  it  is  said,  fears  that 
some  accident  has  happened  to  him.  Carnavia  is 
also  disturbed  over  this  disappearance.  Some 


44  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

whisper  of  a  beautiful  peasant  girl.  Who  can 
say?" 

"Any  political  significance  in  this  marriage?" 

"Leopold  expects  to  strengthen  his  throne  by  the 
alliance.  But — "  Johann's  mouth  closed  and  his 
tongue  pushed  out  his  cheek.  "There  will  be  some 
fine  doings  in  the  good  city  of  Bleiberg  before 
the  month  is  gone.  The  minister  from  the  duchy 
has  been  given  his  passports.  Every  one  concedes 
that  trouble  is  likely  to  ensue.  Baron  von  Rumpf — 

"Baron  von  Rumpf,"  repeated  the  Englishman 
thoughtfully. 

"Yes;  he  is  not  a  man  to  submit  to  accusations 
without  making  a  disagreeable  defense." 

"What   does  the   duke   say?" 

"The  duke?" 

"Yes." 

"His  Highness  has  been  dead  these  four  years." 

"Dead  four  years?  So  much  for  man  and  his 
futile  dreams.  Dead  four  years,"  absently. 

"What  did  you  say,  Herr?" 

"I?     Nothing.     How  did  he  die?" 

"He  was  thrown  from  his  horse  and  killed. 
But  the  duchess  lives,  and  she  is  worthy  of  her 
sire.  Eh,  Herr,  there  is  a  woman  for  you !  She 
should  sit  on  this  throne;  it  is  hers  by  right. 
These  Osians  are  aliens  and  were  forced  on  us." 

"It  seems  to  me,  young  man,  that  you  are  talk- 
ing treason." 

"That  is  my  business,  Herr."  Johann  laughed. 
"I  am  a  socialist,  and  occasionally  harangue  for  the 
reds.  And  sometimes,  when  I  am  in  need  of 
money,  I  find  myself  in  the  employ  of  1hr>  pollrc.'1 


45 


The  muscles  of  the  Englishman's  jaws  hard- 
ened, then  they  relaxed.  The  expression  on  the 
face  of  his  guide  was  free  from  anything  but  bon- 
homie. 

"One  must  live/'  Johann  added  deprecatingly. 

"Yes,  one  must  live/'  replied  the  Englishman. 

"0 !  but  I  could  sell  some  fine  secrets  to  the 
Osians  had  they  money  to  pay.  Ach!  but  what 
is  the  use?  The  king  has  no  money;  he  is  on 
the  verge  of  bankruptcy,  and  this  pretty  bit  of 
scenery  is  the  cause  of  it." 

"So  you  are  a  socialist?"  said  the  Englishman, 
passing  over  Johann's  declamatory  confidences. 

"Yes,  Herr.     All  men  are  brothers." 

"Go  to!"  laughed  the  Englishman,  "you  aren't 
even  a  second  cousin  to  me.  But  stay,  what  place 
is  this  we  are  passing?"  indicating  with  his  cane 
a  red-brick  mansion  which  was  fronted  by  broad 
English  lawns  and  protected  from  intrusion  by  a 
high  iron  fence. 

"That  is  the  British  legation,  Herr." 

The  Englishman  stopped  and  stared,  unconscious 
of  the  close  scrutiny  of  the  guide.-  His  eyes  trav- 
eled up  the  wide  flags  leading  to  the  veranda,  and 
he  drew  a  picture  of  a  square-shouldered  old  man 
tramping  backward  and  forward,  the  wind  tan- 
gling his  thin  white  hair,  his  hands  behind  his 
back,  his  chin  in  his  collar  and  at  his  heels  a  white 
bulldog.  Rapidly  another  picture  came.  It  was  an 
English  scene.  And  the  echo  of  a  voice  fell  on 
his  ears.  "My  way  and  the  freedom  of  the  house 
and  the  key  to  the  purse;  your  way  and  a  closed 
door  while  I  live.  You  can  go,  but  you  can  not 


46  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

come  back.  You  have  decided?  Yes?  Then  good 
morning."  Thirteen  years,  thirteen  years!  He 
had  sacrificed  the  freedom  of  the  house  and  the 
key  to  the  purse,  the  kind  eyes  and  the  warm  pres- 
sure of  that  old  hand.  And  for  what?  Starva- 
tion in  the  deserts,  plenty  of  scars  and  little  of 
thanks,  ingratitude  and  forgetfulness. 

And  now  the  kind  eyes  were  closed  and  the 
warm  hand  cold.  0,  to  recall  the  vanished  face, 
the  silent  voice,  the  misspent  years,  the  April  days 
and  their  illusions!  The  Englishman  took  the 
monocle  from  his  eye  and  looked  at  it,  wondering 
what  had  caused  the  sudden  blur. 

"There  was  a  fine  old  man  there  in  the  bygone 
days,"  said  Johann. 

"And  who  was  he?" 

"Lord  Fitzgerald,  the  British  minister.  He  and 
Leopold  were  close  friends."  Johann's  investigat- 
ing gaze  went  unrewarded.  The  Englishman's 
face  had  resumed  its  expression  of  mild  curiosity. 

"Ah;  a  compatriot  of  mine,"  he  said.  Inwardly 
he  mused:  "This  guide  is  watching  me;  let  him 
catch  me  if  he  can.  His  duchess?  I  know  far 
too  much  of  her!" 

"He  was  a  millionaire,  too,"  went  on  Johann. 

"Well,  we  can't  all  be  rich.     Come." 

They  crossed  the  Strasse  and  traversed  the  walk 
at  the  side  of  the  palace  enclosures.  The  English- 
man aimlessly  trailed  his  cane  along  the  green 
pickets  of  the  fence  till  they  ended  in  a  stone 
arch  which  rose  high  over  the  driveway.  The 
£ates  were  open,  and  coming  toward  the  two  wan- 
derers as  they  stood  at  the  curb  rolled  the  royal 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  47 

barouche,  on  each  side  of  which  rode  a  mounted 
cuirassier,  sashed  and  helmeted.  The  Englishman, 
however,  had  observed  nothing;  he  was  lost  in 
some  dream. 

''Look,  Herr !"  cried  Johanu,  rousing  the  other 
liv  a  pull  at  the  sleeve.  "Look!"  Socialist  though 
he  claimed  to  be,  Johann  touched  his  cap. 

In  the  barouche,  leaning  back  among  the  black 
velvet  cushions,  her  face  mellowed  by  the  shade 
of  a  small  parasol,  was  a  young  woman  of  nine- 
teen or  twenty,  as  beautiful  as  a  da  Vinci  freshly 
conceived.  The  Englishman  saw  a  pair  of  grave 
dark  eyes  which,  in  the  passing,  met  his  and  held 
them.  He  caught  his  breath. 

"Who  is  that?"  he  asked. 

"That  is  her  Royal  Highness  the  Crown  Princess 
Alexia." 

Afterward  the  Englishman  remembered  seeing  a 
white  dog  lying  on  the  opposite  seat. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  ROTALTT 

Maurice  Carewe,  attached  to  the  American  le- 
gation in  Vienna,  leaned  against  the  stone  parapet 
which  separated  the  terraced  promenade  of  the 
Continental  Hotel  from  the  Werter  See,  and  won- 
dered what  had  induced  him  to  come  to  Bleiberg. 

He  had  left  behind  him  the  glory  of  September 
in  Vienna,  a  city  second  only  to  Paris  in  fashion 
and  gaiety;  Vienna,  with  its  inimitable  bands,  its 
incomparable  gardens,  its  military  maneuvers,  its 
salons,  its  charming  women;  and  all  for  a  fool's 
errand.  His  Excellency  was  to  blame.  He  had 
casually  dropped  the  remark  that  the  duchy's  min- 
ister, Baron  von  Rumpf,  had  been  given  his  pass- 
ports as  a  persona  non  grata  by  the  chancellor 
of  the  kingdom,  and  that  a  declaration  of  war  was 
likely  to  follow.  Maurice's  dormant  love  of  jour- 
nalistic inquiry  had  become  aroused,  and  he  had 
asked  permission  to  investigate  the  affair,  a  favor 
readily  granted  to  him. 

But  here  he  was,  on  the  scene,  and  nobody  knew 

anything,   and   nobody   could   tell   anything.      The 

duchess  had  remained  silent.     Not  unnaturally  he 

wished   himself  back   in  Vienna.     There   were  no 

48 


THE    PUPPET    CROWN  49 

court  fetes  in  the  city  of  Bleiberg.  The  king's 
condition  was  too  grave  to  permit  them.  And,  be- 
sides, there  had  been  no  real  court  in  Bleiberg 
for  the  space  of  ten  years,  so  he  was  told.  Those 
solemn  affairs  of  the  archbishop's,  given  once  the 
week  for  the  benefit  of  the  corps  diplomatique, 
were  dull  and  spiritless.  Her  Royal  Highness  was 
seldom  seen,  save  when  she  drove  through  the 
streets.  Persons  who  remembered  the  reign  before 
told  what  a  mad,  gay  court  it  had  been.  Now  it 
was  funereal.  The  youth  and  beauty  of  Bleiberg 
held  a  court  of  its  own.  Royalty  was  not  in- 
cluded, nor  did  it  ask  to  be. 

A  strange  capital,  indeed,  Maurice  reflected,  as  he 
gazed  down  into  the  cool,  brown  water.  He  re- 
gretted his  caprice.  There  were  pretty  women  in 
Vienna.  Some  of  them  belonged  to  the  American 
colony.  They  danced  well,  they  sang  and  played 
and  rode.  He  had  taught  some  of  them  how  to 
fence,  and  he  could  not  remember  the  times  he 
had  been  '^buttoned"  while  paying  too  much  atten- 
tion to  their  lips  and  eyes.  For  Maurice  loved  a 
thing  of  beauty,  were  it  a  woman,  a  horse  or  a 
Mediterranean  sunset.  What  a  difference  between 
these  two  years  in  Vienna  and  that  year  in  Cal- 
cutta !  He  never  would  forget  the  dingy  office, 
with  its  tarnished  sign,  "U.  S.  Consul,"  tacked  in- 
securely on  the  door,  and  the  utter  loneliness. 

He  cast  a  pebble  into  the  lake,  and  watched  the 
ripples  roll  away  and  disappear,  and  ruminated  on 
a  life  full  of  color  and  vicissitude.  He  remem- 
bered the  Arizona  days,  the  endless  burning  sand, 
the  dull  routine  of  a  cavalry  trooper,  the  lithe 


50  THEPUPPET     CROWN 

brown  bodies  of  the  Apaches,  the  first  skirmish 
and  the  last.  From  a  soldier  he  had  turned  jour- 
nalist, tramped  the  streets  of  Washington  in  rain 
and  shine,  living  as  a  man  lived  who  must. 

One  day  his  star  had  shot  up  from  the  nadir  of  ob- 
scurity, not  very  far,  but  enough  to  bring  his 
versatility  under  the  notice  of  the  discerning  Sec- 
retary of  State,  who,  having  been  a  friend  of  the 
father,  offered  the  son  a  berth  in  the  diplomatic 
corps.  A  consulate  in  a  South  American  republic, 
during  a  revolutionary  crisis,  where  he  had  shown 
consummate  skill  in  avoiding  political  complica- 
tions (and  where,  by  a  shrewd  speculation  in  gold, 
he  had  feathered  his  nest  for  his  declining  years), 
proved  that  the  continual  incertitude  of  a  journal- 
istic career  is  a  fine  basis  for  diplomatic  work. 
From  South  America  he  had  gone  to  Calcutta, 
thence  to  Austria. 

He  was  only  twenty-nine,  which  age  in  some  is 
youth.  He  possessed  an  old  man's  wisdom  and  a 
boy's  exuberance  of  spirits.  He  laughed  whenever 
he  could;  to  him  life  was  a  panorama  of  vivid 
pictures,  the  world  a  vast  theater  to  which  some- 
how he  had  gained  admission.  His  beardless 
countenance  had  deceived  more  than  one  finished 
diplomat,  for  it  was  difficult  to  believe  that  be- 
hind it  lay  an  earnest  purpose  and  a  daring  cour- 
age. If  he  bragged  a  little,  quizzed  graybeards, 
sought  strange  places,  sported  with  convention,  and 
eluded  women,  it  was  due  to  his  restlessness.  Yet, 
he  had  the  secretiveness  of  sand ;  he  absorbed,  but 
he  revealed  nothing.  He  knew  his  friends ;  they 
thought  they  knew  him.  It  was  his  delight  to 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  51 

have  women  think  him  a  butterfly,  men  write  him 
down  a  fool;  it  covered  up  his  real  desires  and 
left  him  free. 

What  cynicism  he  had  was  mellowed  by  a  fanci- 
ful humor.  Whether  with  steel  or  with  words,  he 
was  a  master  of  fence;  and  if  at  times  some  one 
got  under  his  guard,  that  some  one  knew  it  not. 
To  let  your  enemy  see  that  he  has  hit  you  is  to 
give  him  confidence.  He  saw  humor  where  no 
one  else  saw  it,  and  tragedy  where  it  was  not  sus- 
pected. He  was  one  of  those  rare  individuals 
who,  when  the  opportunity  of  chance  refuses  to 
come,  makes  one. 

"Germany  and  Austria  are  great  countries,"  he 
mused,  lighting  a  cigar.  "Every  hundredth  man 
is  a  king,  one  in  fifty  is  a  duke,  every  tenth  man 
is  a  prince,  and  one  can  not  take  a  corner  with- 
out bumping  into  a  count  or  a  baron.  Even  the 
hotel  waiters  are  disquieting;  there  is  that  embar- 
rassing atmosphere  about  them  which  suggests  no- 
bility in  durance  vile.  As  for  me,  I  prefer  Ken- 
tucky, where  every  man  is  a  colonel,  and  you 
never  make  a  mistake.  And  these  kingdoms !" 
He  indulged  in  subdued  laughter.  "They  are  al- 
ways like  comic  operas.  I  find  myself  looking 
around  every  moment  for  the  merry  villagers  so 
happy  and  so  gay  (at  fifteen  dollars  the  week), 
the  eternal  innkeeper  and  the  perennial  soubrette 
his  daughter,  the  low  comedian  and  the  self-con- 
scious tenor.  Heigho !  and  not  a  soul  in  Bleiberg 
knows  me,  nor  cares. 

"I'd  rather  talk  five  minutes  to  a  pretty  woman 
than  eat  stuffed  pheasants  the  year  around,  and 


52  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

the  stuffed  pheasant  is  about  all  Bleiberg  can  boast 
of.  Well,  here  goes  for  a  voyage  of  discovery;" 
and  he  passed  down  the  stone  steps  to  the  pier, 
quite  unconscious  of  the  admiring  glances  of  the 
women  who  fluttered  back  and  forth  on  the  wide 
balconies  above. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon;  a  fresh 
wind  redolent  of  pine  and  resin  blew  across  the 
lake.  Maurice  climbed  into  a  boat  and  pulled 
away  with  a  strong,  swift  stroke,  enjoying  the  lib- 
eration of  his  muscles.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  out 
he  let  the  oars  drift  and  took  his  bearings.  He 
saw  the  private  gardens  of  the  king  and  the  arch- 
bishop, and,  convinced  that  a  closer  view  would 
afford  him  entertainment,  he  caught  up  the  oars 
again  and  moved  inland. 

The  royal  gardens  ran  directly  into  the  watei, 
while  those  of  the  archbishop  were  protected  by 
a  wall  of  brick  five  or  six  feet  in  height,  in  the 
center  of  which  was  a  gate  opening  on  the  water. 
Behind  the  gate  was  a  small  boat  dock.  Maurice 
plied  the  oars  vigorously.  He  skirted  the  roya! 
gardens,  and  the  smell  of  newly  mown  lawns  filled 
the  air.  Soon  he  was  gliding  along  the  sides  of 
the  moss-grown  walls.  A  bird  chirped  in  the  over- 
hanging boughs.  He  was  about  to  cast  loose  the 
oars  again,  when  the  boat  was  brought  to  a  vio- 
lent stop.  A  few  yards  waterward  from  the  gate, 
there  lay,  hidden  in  the  shadowed  water,  a  sunken 
pier.  On  one  of  the  iron  piles  the  boat  had  be- 
come impaled. 

Maurice  was  tumbled  into  the  bow  of  the  boat, 
which  began  rapidly  to  fill.  First  he  swore,  then 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  53 

he  laughed,  for  he  was  possessed  of  infinite  good 
humor.  The  only  thing  left  for  him  to  do  was  to 
swim  for  the  gate.  With  a  rueful  glance  at  his 
thin  clothes,  he  dropped  himself  over  the  side  of  the 
wreck  and  struck  out  toward  the  gate.  The  water, 
having  its  source  from  the  snowclad  mountains,  was 
icy.  He  was  glad  enough  to  grasp  the  lower  bars 
of  the  gate  and  draw  himself  up.  He  was  on  the 
point  of  climbing  over,  when  a  picture  presented 
itself  to  his  streaming  eyes. 

Seated  on  a  bench  made  of  twisted  vine  was 
a  young  girl.  She  held  in  her  hand  a  book, 
but  she  was  not  reading  it.  She  was  scanning 
the  unwritten  pages  of  some  reverie;  her  eyes, 
dark,  large  and  wistful,  were  holding  communion 
with  the  god  of  dreams.  A  wisp  of  hair,  glossy 
as  coal,  trembled  against  a  cheek  white  as  the 
gown  she  wore. 

At  her  side,  blinking  in  the  last  rays  of  the 
warm  sun,  sat  a  bulldog,  toothless  and  old. 
Now  and  then  a  sear  leaf,  falling  in  a  zig- 
zag course,  rustled  past  his  ears,  and  he  would 
shake  his  head  as  if  he,  too,  were  dreaming  and 
the  leaves  disturbed  him.  All  at  once  he  sniffed, 
his  ears  stood  forward,  and  a  low  growl  broke  the 
enchantment.  The  girl,  on  discovering  Maurice, 
closed  the  book  and  rose.  The  dog,  still  growling, 
jumped  down  and  trotted  to  the  gate.  Maurice 
thought  that  it  was  time  to  speak. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  "pardon-  this  intru- 
sion, but  my  boat  has  met  with  an  accident." 

The  girl  came  to  the  gate.  "Why,  Monsieur," 
she  exclaimed,  "you  are  wet!" 


54  THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

"That  is  true,"  replied  Maurice,  his  teeth  be- 
ginning to  knock  together.  "I  was  forced  to 
swim.  If  you  will  kindly  open  the  gate  and  guide 
me  to  the  street,  I  shall  be  much  obliged  to  you." 

The  gate  swung  outward,  and  in  a  moment 
Maurice  was  on  dry  land,  or  the  next  thing  to  it, 
which  was  the  boat-dock. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said. 

"0 !  And  you  might  have  been  drowned,"  com- 
passion lighting  her  beautiful  eyes.  "Sit  down  on 
the  bench,  Monsieur,  for  you  must  be  weak.  And 
it  was  that  sunken  pier?  I  shall  speak  to  Mon- 
seigneur;  he  must  have  it  removed.  Bull,  stop 
growling;  you  are  very  impolite;  the  gentleman  is 
in  distress." 

Maurice  sat  down,  not  because  he  was  weak,  but 
because  the  desire  to  gain  the  street  had  suddenly 
subsided.  Who  was  this  girl  who  could  say  "must" 
to  the  formidable  prelate?  His  quick  eye  noticed 
that  she  showed  no  sign  of  embarrassment.  In- 
deed, she  impressed  him  as  one  who  was  superior 
to  that  petty  disturbance  of  collected  thought. 
Somehow  it  seemed  to  him,  as  she  stood  there 
looking  down  at  him,  that  he,  too,  should  be 
standing.  But  she  put  forth  a  hand  with  gen- 
tle insistence  when  he  made  as  though  to  rise. 
What  an  exquisite  face,  he  thought.  Against  the 
whiteness  of  her  skin  her  lips  burned  like  poppy 
petals.  Innocent,  inquisitive  eyes  smiled  gently, 
eyes  in  whose  tranquil  depths  lay  the  glory  of  the 
world,  asleep.  Presently  a  color,  faint  and  fugi- 
tive, dimmed  the  whiteness  of  her  cheeks.  Maurice, 


55 


conscious  of  his  rudeness  and  of  a  warmth  in  his 
own  cheeks,  instinctively  lowered  his  gaze. 

"Pardon  my  rudeness,"  he   said. 

"What  is  your  name,  Monsieur,"  she  asked 
calmly. 

"It  is  Maurice  Carewe.  I  am  living  in  Vienna. 
I  came  to  Bleiberg  for  pleasure,  but  the  first  day 
has  not  been  propitious,"  with  an  apologetic  glance 
at  his  dripping  clothes. 

"Maurice  Carewe,"  slowly  repeating  the  full 
name  as  if  to  imprint  it  on  her  memory.  "You 
are  English?" 

He  said:  "No;  I  am  one  of  those  dreadful 
Yankees  you  have  possibly  read  about." 

Her  teeth  gleamed.  "Yes,  I  have  heard  of  them. 
But  you  do  not  appear  so  very  dreadful;  though 
at  present  you  are  truly  not  at  your  best.  What 
is  this — this  Yankeeland  like?" 

"It  would  take  me  ever  so  long  to  tell  you  about 
it,  it  is  such  a  great  country." 

"You  are  a  patriot !"  clapping  her  hands.  "No 
other  country  is  so  fine  and  large  and  great  as 
your  own.  But  tell  me,  is  it  as  large  as  Austria?" 

"Austria?  You  will  not  be  offended  if  I  tell 
you?" 

"No." 

"Well,"  with  fun  in  his  eyes,  "it  is  my  opinion 
that  I  could  hide  Austria  in  my  country  so  thor- 
oughly that  nobody  would  ever  be  able  to  find  it 
again."  He  wondered  how  she  would  accept  this 
statement. 

She  lifted  her  chin  and  laughed,  and  the  bull- 
dog wagged  his  tail,  as  he  always  did  when  mirth 


56  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

touched  her.  He  jumped  up  beside  Maurice  and 
looked  into  his  face.  Maurice  patted  his  broad 
head,  and  he  submitted.  The  girl  looked  rather 
surprised. 

"Are  you  a  magician?"  she  asked. 

"Why?" 

"Bull  never  makes  friends." 

"But  I  do,"  said  Maurice;  "perhaps  he  under- 
stands that,  and  comes  half-way.  But  it  is  rather 
strange  to  see  a  bulldog  in  this  part  of  the  coun- 
try." 

"He  was  given  to  me,  years  ago,  by  an  English- 
man." 

"That  accounts  for  it."  He  was  experiencing  a 
deal  of  cold,  but  he  dared  not  mention  it.  "And 
may  I  ask  your  name?" 

"Ah,  Monsieur,"  shyly,  "to  tell  you  my  name 
would  be  to  frighten  you  away." 

"I  am  sure  nothing  could  do  that,"  he  de- 
clared earnestly.  Had  he  been  thinking  of  aught 
but  her  eyes  he  might  have  caught  the  signifi- 
cance of  her  words.  But,  then,  the  cold  was 
numbing. 

She  surveyed  him  with  critical  eyes.  She  saw 
a  clean-shaven  face,  brown,  handsome  and  eager, 
merry  blue  eyes,  a  chin  firm  and  aggressive,  a 
mischievous  mouth,  a  forehead  which  showed  the 
man  of  thought,  a  slim  athletic  form  which  showed 
the  man  of  action — all  of  which  combined  to  pro- 
duce that  indescribable  air  which  attaches  itself 
to  the  gentleman. 

"It  is  Alexia,"  she  said,  after  some  hesitation, 
watching  him  closely  to  observe  the  effect. 


THF     PUPPET     CROWN  57 

But  he  was  as  far  away  as  ever.     "Alexia  what?" 
"Only    Alexia,"    a    faint    coquetry    stealing    into 

her  glance. 

"0,  then  you  are  probably  a  maid?" 
"Y — es.  But  you  are  disappointed?" 
"No,  indeed.  You  have  put  me  more  at  ease. 

1   suppose  you   serve  the  princess?" 
"Whenever  I  can,"  demurely. 
He  could  not  keep  his  eyes  from  hers.     "They 

say  that  she  is  a  very  lonely  princess." 

"So  lonely."     And  the  coquetry  faded  from  her 

eyes  as  her  glance  wandered  waterward  and  became 

fixed    on    some    object    invisible    and    far    away. 

"Poor  lonely  princess!" 

Maurice  was  growing  colder  and  colder,  but  he 

did   not   mind.     He   had   wished  for   some   woman 

to   talk   to;   his   wish   had   been   granted.     "I   feel 

sorry  for  her,   if  what   they   say  is   true,"  having 

no  other  words. 

"And  what  do  they  say,  Monsieur?" 

"That    she    and   her    father    have    been    socially 

ostracized.     I   should  be  proud  to  be  her  friend." 

Once  the  words  were  gone  from  him,  he  saw  their 

silliness.     "A  presumptuous  statement,"  he  added: 

"I  am  an  obscure  foreigner." 

"Friendship,  Monsieur,  is  a  thing  we  all  should 

prize,  all  the  more  so  when  it  is  disinterested." 
He   said   rapidly,    for   fear    she   might   hear   his 

teeth    chatter:     "They    say    she    is    very  beautiful. 

Tell  me  what  she  is  like." 

"I  am  no  judge  of  what  men  call  beauty.     As 

to  her  character,  I  believe  I  may  recommend  that. 
She  is  good." 


58 


He  was  sure  that  merriment  twitched  the  cor- 
ners of  her  lips,  and  he  grew  thoughtful.  "Alexia. 
Is  that  not  her  Highness's  name  also?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur;  we  have  the  same  names."  Her 
eyes  fell,  and  she  began  to  finger  the  pages  of  the 
book. 

"I  am  rested  now,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden  dis- 
trust. "I  thank  you." 

"Come,  then,  and  I  will  show  you  the  way  to 
the  gate." 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  troubled  you,"  he  said. 

She  did  not  reply,  and  together  they  walked  up 
the  path.  The  plants  were  dying,  and  the  odor 
of  decay  hovered  about  them.  Splashes  of  rich 
vermilion  crowned  the  treetops,  leaves  of  gold, 
russet  and  faded  green  rustled  on  the  ground. 
The  sun  was  gone  behind  the  hills,  the  lake  was 
tinted  with  salmon  and  dun,  and  Maurice  (who 
honestly  would  have  liked  to  run)  was  turning 
purple,  not  from  atmospheric  effect,  but  from  the 
partly  congealed  state  of  his  blood.  Already  he 
was  thinking  that  his  adventure  had  turned  out 
rather  well.  It  was  but  a  simple  task  for  a  man 
of  his  imagination  to  construct  a  pretty  romance, 
with  a  kingdom  for  a  background.  A  maid  of 
honor,  perhaps;  no  matter,  he  would  find  means 
for  future  communication.  A  glamour  had  fallen 
upon  him. 

As  to  the  girl,  who  had  scarce  spoken  to  a 
dozen  young  men  in  her  life,  she  was  comparing 
four  'faces;  one  of  a  visionary  character  of  which 
she  had  dreamed  for  ten  years,  and  three  which 
had  recently  entered  into  the  small  circle  of  her 


59 


affairs.  It  was  little  pleasure  to  her  to  talk  to 
those  bald  diplomats,  who  were  always  saying 
vvhat  they  did  not  mean,  and  meaning  what  they 
did  not  say.  And  the  }'oung  officers  in  the  palace 
never  presumed  to  address  her  unless  spoken  to. 

What  a  monotonous  life  it  was !  She  was  like  a 
bird  in  a  cage,  ever  longing  for  freedom,  not  of 
the  air,  /but  of  impulse.  To  be  permitted  to  yield 
to  the  impulses  of  the  heart !  What  a  delightful 
thought  that  was !  But  she,  she  seemed  apart  from 
all  which  was  desirable  to  youth.  Women  courte- 
sied  to  her,  men  touched  their  hats;  but  homage 
was  not  what  she  wanted.  To  be  free,  that  was 
all;  to  come  and  go  at  will;  to  laugh  and  to  sing. 
But  ever  the  specter  of  royal  dignity  walked  be- 
side her  and  held  her  captive. 

She  was  to  wed  a  man  on  whom  she  looked 
with  indifference,  but  wed  him  she  must;  it  was 
written.  A  toy  of  ambition,  she  was  neither  more 
nor  less.  Ah,  to  be  as  her  maids,  not  royal,  but 
free.  Of  the  three  new  faces  one  belonged  to  the 
man  whom  she  was  to  wed;  another  was  a  tall, 
light-haired  man  whom  she  had  seen  from  her 
carriage:  the  last  walked  by  her  side.  And  some- 
how,  the  visionary  face,  the  faces  of  the  man  whom 
she  was  to  wed  and  the  light-haired  man  suddenly 
gn>\v  indistinct.  She  glanced  from  the  corner  of 
her  eyes  at  Maurice,  but  meeting  his  glance,  in 
which  lay  something  that  caused  her  uneasiness, 
her  gaze  dropped  to  the  path. 

"I  shall  be  pleased  to  tell  her  Highness  tnat  a 
stranger,  who  has  not  met  her,  who  does  not  even 
suspect  her  rebel  spirit,  desires  to  be  her  friend." 


60  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

"0,  Mademoiselle/'  he  cried  in  alarm,  "that  de- 
sire was  expressed  in  confidence/' 

"I  know  it.  It  is  for  that  very  reason  I  wish 
her  to  know.  Have  no  fear,  Monsieur;"  and  she 
laughed  without  mirth.  "Her  Highness  will  not 
send  you  to  prison." 

Close  at  hand  Maurice  discovered  a  cuirassier, 
who,  on  seeing  them,  saluted  and  stood  attention. 
Maurice  was  puzzled. 

"Lieutenant,"  said  the  girl,  "Monsieur — Carewe?" 
turning  to  Maurice. 

"Yes,  that  is  the  name." 

"Well,  then,  Monsieur  Carewe  has  met  with  an 
accident;  please  escort  him  to  the  gate.  I  trust 
you  will  not  suffer  any  inconvenience  from  the 
cold.  Good  evening,  Monsieur  Carewe." 

She  retraced  her  steps  clown  the  path.  The 
bulldog  followed.  Once  he  looked  back  at  Maurice, 
and  stopped  as  if  undecided,  then  went  on.  Mau- 
rice stared  at  the  figure  of  the  girl  until  it  van- 
ished behind  a  clump  of  rose  bushes. 

"Well,  Monsieur  Carewe !"  said  the  Lieutenant, 
a  broad  smile  under  his  mustache. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Lieutenant.  May  I  ask 
you  'who  she  is  ?" 

"What!     You  do  not  know?*' 

Maurice  suddenly  saw  light.  "Her  Royal  High- 
ness?" blankly. 

"Her  Royal  Highness,  God  bless  her!"  cried  the 
Lieutenant  heartily. 

"Amen  to  that,"  replied  Maurice,  his  agitation 
visible  even  to  the  officer. 

They  arrived  at  the  gate  in  silence.     The  cuiras- 


THE     PUT  PET     CROWN  61 

iier  raised  the  bar,  touched  his  helmet,  and  said, 
with  something  like  an  amused  twinkle  in  his 
eyes:  "Would  Monsieur  like  to  borrow  my  helmet 
for  a  space?" 

Maurice  put  up  a  hand  to  his  water-soaked 
hair,  and  gave  an  ejaculation  of  dismay.  He  had 
forgotten  all  about  his  hat,  which  was  by  now,  in 
all  probabilities,  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake. 

"Curse  the  luck!"  he  said,  in  English. 

"Cur^e  the  want  of  it,  I  should  say!"  was  the 
merry  rejoinder,  also  in  English. 

Maurice  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed,  and 
the  cuirassier  caught  the  infection. 

"However,  there  is  some  compensation  for  the 
hat,"  said  the  cuirassier,  straightening  his  hel- 
met. "You  are  the  first  stranger  who  has  spoken 
to  her  Highness  this  many  a  day.  Did  the  dog 
take  to  your  calves?  Well,  never  mind;  he  has 
no  teeth.  It  was  only  day  before  yesterday  that 
the  Marshal  swore  he'd  have  the  dog  shot.  Poor 
dog !  He  is  growing  blind,  too,  or  he'd  never 
have  risked  his  gums  on  the  Marshal,  who  is  all 
shins.  If  you  will  wait  I  will  fetch  you  one  of 
the  archbishop's  skull  caps." 

"Don't  trouble  yourself,"  laughed  Maurice. 
"What  I  need  is  not  a  hat,  but  a  towel,  and  I'll 
get  that  at  the  hotel.  George!  I  feel  so  like  an 
ass.  What  is  your  name,  Lieutenant?" 

"Von  Mitter,  Carl  von  Mitter,  at  your  service. 
And  you  are  Monsieur  Carewe." 

"Of  the  American  legation  in  Vienna.  Thanks 
for  vour  trouble." 


62  THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

"Xone  at  all.  You  had  better  hurry  along; 
your  nails  are  growing  black." 

Maurice  passed  into  the  street.  "Her  Royal 
Highness !"  he  muttered.  "The  crown  princess, 
and  I  never  suspected.  Her  name  is  Alexia,  and 
she  serves  the  princess  whenever  she  can!  Maurice, 
you  are  an  ass!" 

Having  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  and  brush- 
ing the  dank  hair  from  his  eyes,  he  thrust  his 
hands  into  his  oozing  pockets,  and  proceeded 
across  the  square  toward  the  Continental,  wonder- 
ing if  there  was  a  rear  entrance.  Happily  the 
adventure  absorbed  all  his  thoughts.  He  was  quite 
unobservant  of  the  marked  attention  bestowed  on 
him.  Carriages  filled  the  Strasse,  and  many  per- 
sons moved  along  the  walks.  It  was  the  prom- 
enade hour.  The  water,  which  still  dripped  from 
his  clothes  and  trickled  from  his  shoes,  left  a  con- 
spicuous trail  behind;  and  this  alone,  without  the 
absence  of  a  hat,  would  have  made  him  the  object 
of  amused  and  wondering  smiles. 

A  gendarme  stared  at  him,  but  seeing  that  he 
walked  straight,  said  nothing.  Maurice,  however, 
was  serenely  unaware  of  what  was  passing  around 
him.  He  did  not  notice  even  the  tall,  broad-shoul- 
dered man  who,  with  a  gun  under  his  arm,  brushed 
past  him,  followed  by  a  round-faced  German  over 
whose  back  was  slung  a  game-bag.  The  man  with 
the  gun  was  also  oblivious  of  his  surroundings.  He 
bumped  into  several  persons,  who  scowled  at  him, 
but  offered  no  remonstrance  after  having  taken  his 
measure.  The  German  put  his  pipe  into  his 
pocket  and  advanced  a  step. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  63 

"The  other  gun,  Herr,"  he  said,  "would  have 
meant  the  boar." 

"So  it  would,  perhaps,"  was  the  reply. 

"We've  done  pretty  good  work  these  two  days," 
went  on  the  German;  but  as  the  other  appeared 
not  to  have  heard  he  fell  to  the  rear  again,  a  sar- 
donic smile  flitting  over  his  oily  face. 

When  Maurice  reached  the  hotel  cafe  he  left 
an  order  for  a  cognac  to  be  sent  to  his  room,  whither 
he  repaired  at  once.  As  he  got  into  dry  clothes 
he  mused. 

"I  wonder  what  sort  of  a  man  that  crown  prince 
is?  Now,  if  I  were  he,  an  army  could  not  keep 
me  away  from  Bleiberg.  Either  he  is  no  judge 
of  beauty,  or  the  peasant  girls  hereabout  are  some- 
thing extraordinary.  Pshaw !  a  man  always  makes 
an  ass  of  'himself  on  his  wedding  eve;  the  crown 
prince  is  simply  starting  in  early.  I  believe  I'll 
hang  on  here  till  the  wedding  day;  a  royal  mar- 
riage is  one  of  those  things  which  I  have  yet  to 
see.  I  have  a  fortnight  or  more  to  knock  around 
in.  I  should  like  to  know  what  the  duchess  will 
eventually  do." 

He  sipped  the  last  drop  of  the  cognac  and  went 
down  the  stairs. 


CHAPTEK  V 

BEHIND   THE   PUPPET   BOOTH 

While  the  absent-minded  hunter  strode  down 
toward  the  lower  town,  and  Maurice  sipped 
his  cognac,  the  king  lay  in  his  bed  in  the  palace 
and  aimlessly  fingered  the  counterpane.  There 
was  now  no  beauty  in  his  face.  It  was  furrowed 
and  pale,  and  an  endless  fever  burned  in  the 
sunken  eyes — eyes  like  coals,  which  suddenly  -flare 
before  they  turn  to  ash. 

The  archbishop  nor  the  chancellor  could  see 
anything  in  the  dim  corners  of  the  royal  bed 
chamber,  but  he  could.  It  was  the  mocking  finger 
of  death,  and  it  was  leveled  at  him.  Spring  had 
come,  and  summer  and  autumn  and  winter,  and 
spring  again,  but  he  had  not  wandered  through 
the  green  fields,  except  in  dreams,  and  the  byways 
he  loved  knew  him  no  more.  Ah,  to  sit  still  like 
a  spectator  and  to  see  the  world  pass  by !  To  be 
a  part  of  it,  and  yet  not  of  it!  To  see  the  glory 
of  strength  and  vigor  just  beyond  one's  grasp,  the 
staffs  to  lean  on  crumble  to  the  touch,  and  the 
stars  of  hope  fade  away  one  by  one  from  the 
firmament  of  one's  dreams !  Here  was  weariness 
for  which  there  was  no  remedy. 

64 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  65 

Day  by  day  time  pressed  him  on  toward  the  in- 
evitable. No  human  hand  could  stay  him.  He 
could  think,  but  he  could  not  act.  He  could  move, 
but  he  could  not  stand  nor  walk.  And  that  philos- 
ophy which  had  in  other  days  sustained  him  was 
shattered  and  threadbare.  He  was  dead,  yet  he 
lived.  Fate  has  so  many  delicate  ironies. 

He  had  tried  to  make  his  people  love  him,  only  to 
acquire  their  hate.  He  had  reduced  taxation,  only 
to  be  scorned.  He  had  made  the  city  beautiful, 
only  to  be  cursed.  A  paralytic,  the  theme  of 
ribald  verse,  the  butt  of  wineroom  wits,  the  ob- 
ject of  contumely  to  his  people,  his  beneficiaries! 

The  ingratitude  of  kings  bites  not  half  so  deep  as 
the  ingratitude  of  the  people.  Tears  filled  his 
eyes,  and  he  fumbled  his  lips.  There  were  only 
two  bright  spots  in  his  futile  life.  The  first  was 
his  daughter,  who  read  to  him,  who  was  the  first 
in  the  morning  to  greet  him  and  last  at  night  to 
leave  him.  The  second  was  the  evening  hour  when 
the  archbishop  and  the  chancellor  came  in  to  dis- 
cuss the  affairs  of  state. 

"And  Prince  Frederick  has  not  yet  been  heard 
from?"  was  his  first  inquiry. 

"No,  Sire,"  answered  the  chancellor.  "The  mat- 
ter is  altogether  mysterious.  The  police  can  find 
no  trace  of  him.  He  left  Carnavia  for  Bleiberg; 
he  stopped  at  Ehrenstein,  directed  his  suite  to  pro- 
ceed; there,  all  ends.  The  ambassador  from  Car- 
navia approached  me  to-day.  He  scouts  the  idea 
of  a  peasant  girl,  and  hinted  at  other  things." 

"Yes,"  said  the  king,  "there  is  something  be- 
hind all  this.  Frederick  is  not  a  youth  of  pecca- 


66  THE     PUPPET     C  II  0  \V  X 

dilloes.  Something  has  happened  to  him.  But 
God  send  him  safe  and  sound  to  us,  so  much  de- 
pends on  him.  And  Alexia?" 

"Says  nothing/'  the  archbishop  answered,  "a  way 
with  her  when  troubled." 

"And  my  old  friend,  Lord  Fitzgerald?" 

The  prelate  shook  his  head  sadly.  "We  have 
just  been  made  acquainted  with  his  death.  God 
rest  his  kindly  soul." 

The  king  sank  deeper  into  his  pillows. 

"But  we  shall  hear  from  his  son  within  a  few 
days,"  continued  the  prelate,  taking  the  king's 
hand  in  his  own.  "My  son,  cease  to  worry. 
Alexia's  future  is  in  good  hands.  I  have  confi- 
dence that  the  public  debt  will  be  liquidated  on 
the  twentieth." 

"Or  renewed,"  said  the  chancellor.  "Your 
Majesty  must  not  forget  that  Prince  Frederick 
sacrifices  his  own  private  fortune  to  adjust  our 
indebtedness.  That  is  the  wedding  gift  which  he 
offers  to  her  Highness.  One  way  or  the  other,  we 
have  nothing  to  fear." 

"0!"  cried  the  king,  "I  had  forgotten  that 
magnanimity.  His  disappearance  is  no  longer  a 
mystery.  He  is  dead." 

His  auditors  could  not  repress  the  start  which 
this  declaration  caused  them  to  make. 

"Sire,"  said  the  chancellor,  quietly,  "princes 
are  not  assassinated  these  days.  Our  worry  is 
perhaps  all  needless.  The  prince  is  young,  and 
sometimes  youth  flings  off  the  bridle  and  runs 
away.  But  he  loves  her  Highness,  and  the  Carna- 
vians  are  not  fickle." 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  67 

The  prelate  and  the  statesman  had  different  ideas 
in  regard  to  the  peasant  girl.  To  the  prelate  a 
woman  was  an  unknown  quantity,  and  he  frowned. 
The  statesman,  who  had  once  been  young,  knew  a 
deal  about  woman,  and  he  smiled. 

"Sometimes,  my  friends/'  said  the  king,  "I  can 
see  beyond  the  human  glance.  I  hear  the  crum- 
bling of  walls.  But  for  that  lonely  child  I  could 
die  in  peace.  The  crown  I  wear  is  of  lead;  God 
hasten  the  day  that  lifts  it  from  my  brow."  When 
the  king  spoke  again,  he  said:  "And  that  inso- 
lent Von  Rumpf  is  gone  at  last?  I  am  easier. 
He  should  have  been  sent  about  his  business  ten 
years  ago.  What  does  Madame  the  duchess  say?" 

"So  little,"  answered  the  chancellor,  "that  I  be- 
gin to  distrust  her  silence.  But  she  is  a  wise 
woman,  though  her  years  are  but  five  and  twenty, 
and  she  will  not  make  any  foolish  declaration  of 
war  which  would  only  redound  to  her  chagrin." 

"What  is  the  fascination  in  these  crowns  of 
straw?"  said  the  king  to  the  prelate.  "Ah,  my 
father,  you  strive  for  the  crown  to  come;  and  yet 
your  earnest  but  misguided  efforts  placed  this 
earthly  one  on  my  head.  You  were  ambitious  for 
me." 

"Nay,"  and  the  prelate  bent  his  head.  "It  was 
self  that  spoke,  worldly  aggrandizement.  I  wished 
— God  forgive  me! — to  administer  not  to  the 
prince  but  to  the  king.  I  am  punished.  The 
crown  has  broken  your  life.  It  was  the  passing 
glory  of  the  world;  and  I  fell." 

"And  were  not  my  eyes  as  dazzled  by  the  crown 
as  yours  were  by  the  robes?  Why  did  we  leave 


68  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

the  green  hills  of  Osia?  What  destiny  writes,  fate 
must  unfold.  And  oh,  the  dreams  I  had  of  being 
great !  I  am  fifty-eight  and  you  are  seventy. 
And  look;  I  am  a  broken  twig,  and  you  tower 
above  me  like  an  ancient  oak,  and  as  strong."  To 
the  chancellor  he  said :  "And  what  is  the  budget  ?" 

"Sire,  it  is  fairly  quiet  in  the  lower  town.  The 
native  troops  have  been  paid,  and  all  signs  of  dis- 
content abated.  The  duchess  can  do  nothing  but 
replace  von  Rumpf.  The  Marshal  is  a  straw  in 
the  wind;  von  Wallenstein  and  Mollendorf,  I  hold 
a  sword  above  their  necks.  Nearly  half  the  Diet 
is  with  us.  There  has  been  some  strange  med- 
dling in  the  customs.  Englishmen  have  brought 
me  complaints,  through  the  British  legation,  re- 
garding such  inspections  as  were  never  before 
heard  of  in  a  country  at  peace.  I  consulted  the 
chief  inspector  and  he  affirmed  the  matter.  He 
was  under  orders  of  the  minister  of  police.  It 
appears  to  me  that  a  certain  Englishman  is  to  be 
kept  out  of  the  country  for  reasons  well  known 
to  us.  I  have  suspended  police  power  over  the 
customs.  Ah,  Sire,  if  you  would  but  agree  with 
Monseigneur  to  dismiss  the  cabinet." 

"It  is  too  late,"  said  the  king. 

"There  is  only  one  flaw,"  continued  the  chan- 
cellor. "This  flaw  is  Colonel  Beauvais,  chief  in 
command  of  the  cuirassiers,  who  in  authority  stands 
between  the  Marshal  and  General  Kronau.  I  fear 
him.  Why?  Instinct.  He  is  too  well  informed 
of  my  projects  for  one  thing;  he  laughs  when  I 
suggest  in  military  affairs.  Who  is  he?  A  French- 
man, if  one  may  trust  to  a  name;  an  Austrian,  if 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  G9 

one  may  trust  from  whence  he  came,  recommended 
by  the  premier  himself.  He  entered  the  cuiras- 
siers as  a  Captain.  You  yourself,  Sire,  made  him 
what  he  is — the  real  military  adviser  of  the  king- 
dom. But  what  of  his  past?  No  one  knows,  un- 
less it  be  von  Wallenstein,  his  intimate.  I,  for 
one,  while  I  may  be  wrong,  trust  only  those  whose 
past  I  know,  and  even  then  only  at  intervals." 

"Colonel  Beauvais?"  murmured  the  king.  "I 
am  sure  that  you  are  unjustly  suspicious.  How 
many  times  have  I  leaned  on  his  stout  arm !  He 
taught  Alexia  a  thousand  tricks  of  horse,  so  that 
to-day  she  rides  as  no  other  woman  in  the  king- 
dom rides.  Would  that  I  stood  half  so  straight 
and  looked  at  the  world  half  so  fearlessly.  He  is 
the  first  soldier  in  the  kingdom." 

"All  men  are  honest  in  your  Majesty's  eyes," 
said  the  archbishop. 

"All  save  the  man  within  me,"  replied  the  king. 

At  this  juncture  the  king's  old  valet  came  in 
with  the  evening  meal;  and  soon  after  the  prelate 
and  the  chancellor  withdrew  frqm  the  chamber. 

"How  long  will  he  live  ?"  asked  the  latter. 

"A  year;  perhaps  only  till  to-morrow.  Ah,  had 
he  but  listened  to  me  several  years  ago,  all  this 
would  not  have  come  to  pass.  He  would  see 
nothing;  he  persisted  in  dreams.  With  the  death 
of  Josef  he  was  convinced  that  his  enemies  had 
ceased  to  be.  Had  he  listened,  I  should  have  dis- 
missed the  cabinet,  and  found  enough  young  blood 
to  answer  my  purposes;  I  should  have  surrounded 
him  with  a  mercenary  army  two  thousand  strong; 
by  now  he  should  have  stood  strongly  entrenched. 


70  THE    PUPPET     CROWH 

"They  have  robbed  him,  but  you  and  I  were  per- 
mitted to  do  nothing.  Where  is  the  prosperity 
of  which  we  formerly  boasted?  I,  too,  hear 
crumbling  walls.  Yet,  the  son  of  this  English- 
man, whose  strange  freak  is  still  unaccountable, 
will  come  at  the  appointed  time;  I  know  the  race. 
He  will  renew  the  loan  for  another  ten  years. 
What  a  fancy !  Lord  Fitzgerald  was  an  eccentric 
man.  Given  a  purpose,  he  pursued  it  to  the  end, 
neither  love  nor  friendship,  nor  fear  swerved  him. 
Do  you  know  that  he  made  a  vow  that  Duke 
Josef  should  never  sit  on  this  throne,  nor  his  de- 
scendants? What  were  five  millions  to  him,  if  in 
giving  them  he  realized  the  end?  The  king  would 
never  explain  the  true  cause  of  this  Englishman's 
folly,  but  I  know  that  it  was  based  on  revenge,  the 
cause  of  which  also  is  a  mystery.  If  only  the 
prince  were  here!" 

"He  will  come;  youth  will  be  youth." 

"Perhaps." 

"You  have  never  been  young." 

"Not  in  that  particular  sense  to  which  you  re- 
fer," dryly. 


In  the  chamber  of  finance  Colonel  Beauvais 
leaned  over  the  desk  and  perused  the  writing  on 
a  slip  of  paper  which  the  minister  had  given  him. 
Enough  daylight  remained  to  permit  the  letters  to 
stand  out  legibly.  When  he  had  done  the  Colonel 
tossed  back  the  missive,  and  the  minister  tore  it 
into  shreds  and  dropped  them  into  the  waste 
basket. 


THE    PUPPET    CROWN  71 

"So  much  for  your  pains,"  said  Beauvais.  "The 
spy,  who  has  eaten  up  ten  thousand  crowns,  is  not 
worth  his  salt.  He  has  watched  this  man  Ham- 
ilton for  two  days,  been  his  guide  in  the  hills, 
and  yet  learns  nothing.  And  the  rigor  of  the  cus- 
toms is  a  farce." 

"This  day,"  replied  the  minister,  "the  police 
lost  its  jurisdiction  over  the  customs.  Complaints 
have  been  entered  at  the  British  legation,  which 
forwarded  them  to  the  chancellor." 

"0  ho!"     The  Colonel  pulled  his  mustache. 

"I  warned  you  against  this.  The  chancellor  is 
a  man  to  be  respected,  whatever  his  beliefs.  I 
warned  you  and  Mollendorf  of  the  police  what  the 
result  would  be.  The  chancellor  has  a  hard  hand 
when  it  falls.  He  was  always  bold;  now  he  is 
more  so  since  he  practically  stands  alone.  In 
games  of  chance  one  always  should  play  close.  You 
are  in  a  hurry." 

"I  have  waited  six  years." 

"And  I  have  waited  fourteen." 

"Well,  then,  I  shall  pass  into  the  active.  I 
shall  watch  this  Englishman  myself.  He  is  likely 
to  prove  the  agent.  Count,  the  time  for  waiting 
is  gone.  If  the  debt  is  liquidated  or  renewed — 
and  there  is  Prince  Frederick  to  keep  in  mind — 
we  shall  have  played  and  lost.  Disgrace  for  you; 
for  me — well,  perhaps  there  is  a  power  behind  me 
too  strong.  The  chancellor?  Pouf!  I  have  no 
fear  of  him.  But  you  who  laugh  at  the  arch- 
bishop— " 

"He  is  too  old." 

"So  jou  say.     But  he  has  dreams  unknown  to 


72  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

us.  He  has  ceased  to  act;  why?  He  is  waiting 
for  the  curtain  to  rise.  Nothing  escapes  him ; 
he  is  letting  us  go  to  what  end  we  will,  only, 
if  we  do  not  act  at  once,  to  draw  us  to  a  sudden 
halt.  Now  to  this  meddling  Englishman:  we  have 
offered  him  a  million — five  millions  for  four.  He 
laughs.  He  is  a  millionaire.  With  characteristic 
bombast  he  declares  that  money  has  no  charms. 
For  six  months,  since  his  father's  death,  we  have 
hounded  him,  in  vain.  It  is  something  I  can  not 
understand.  What  is  Leopold  to  these  English- 
men that  they  risk  a  princely  fortune  to  secure 
him  his  throne?  Friendship?  Bah,  there  is  none." 

"Not  in  France  nor  in  Austria.  But  this  man 
was  an  Englishman;  they  leave  legacies  of  friend- 
ship." 

The  Colonel  walked  to  the  window  and  looked 
down  into  the  gardens.  He  remained  there  for  a 
time.  Von  Wallenstein  eyed  him  curiously. 
Presently  the  soldier  returned  to  his  seat. 

"We  are  crossing  a  chasm;  a  man  stands  in  our 
way;  as  we  can  not  go  around  him,  we,  being  the 
stronger,  push  him  aside.  Eh?" 

"You  would  not  kill — "  began  the  minister. 

"Let  us  use  the  French  meaning  of  the  word 
'suppress/  And  why  not?  Ambition,  wherever  it 
goes,  leaves  a  trail  of  bloodl  What  is  a  human 
life  in  this  game  we  play?  A  leaf,  a  grain  of 
sand." 

"But,  since  the  prince  promises  to  liquidate  the 
debt,  what  matters  it  if  the  Englishman  conies? 
It  is  all  one  and  the  same." 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  73 

"Within  twenty,  nay,  within  fifteen  days,  what 
may  not  happen  ?" 

"You     are     ambitious/'     said    von     Wallenstein, 

slyly- 

"And  who  is  not?" 

"Is  a  Marshal's  baton  so  much,  then,  above  your 
present  position?  You  are  practically  the  head  of 
the  army." 

"A  valiant  army!"  laughing;  "five  thousand 
men.  Why,  Madame  the  duchess  has  six  thousand 
and  three  batteries." 

"Her  army  of  six  thousand  is  an  expedient;  you 
can  raise  volunteers  to  the  amount  of  ten  thou- 
sand." 

"To  be  sure  I  could;  but  supposing  I  did  not 
want  to  ?" 

The  minister  dropped  his  gaze  and  began  fin- 
gering the  paper  cutter.  The  Colonel's  real  pur- 
pose was  still  an  enigma  to  him.  "Come,  you 
have  the  confidence  of  the  king,  the  friendship  of 
her  Royal  Highness.  What  do  you  gain  in  serving 
us?  The  baton?" 

"You  embarrass  me.  Questions?  I  should  not 
like  to  lie  to  you.  Batons  were  fine  things  when 
Louises  and  Napoleons  conferred  them.  I  have 
thrown  my  dice  into  the  common  cup;  let  that  be 
sufficient." 

"A  man  who  comes  from  a  noble  house  such  as 
you  come  from — " 

"Ah,  count,  that  was  never  to  be  referred  to. 
Be  content  with  my  brain  and  sword.  And  then, 
there  is  the  old  saying,  Give  a  man  an  ell,  and 


74  THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

look  to  your  rod.  We  are  all  either  jackals  or 
lions,  puppets  or  men  behind  the  booth.  I  am  a 
lion."  He  r»se,  drew  his  saber  half-way  from  the 
scabbard,  and  sent  it  slithering  back.  "In  a  fort- 
night we  put  it  to  the  touch  to  win  or  lose  it  all, 
as  the  poet  says.  Every  man  for  himself,  and  let 
the  strongest  win,  say  I." 

"You  are  playing  two  games,"  coldly. 

"And  you?  Is  it  for  pure  love  of  Madame  the 
duchess  that  you  risk  your  head?  Come,  as  you 
say;  admit  that  you  wish  to  see  my  hand  without 
showing  yours.  A  baton  is  not  much  for  me,  as 
you  have  hinted,  but  it  is  all  that  was  promised 
me.  And  you,  if  we  win,  will  still  be  minister  of 
finances?  What  is  that  maggot  I  see  behind  your 
eyes?  Is  it  not  spelled  'chancellor  ?  But,  remem- 
ber, Madame  has  friends  to  take  care  of  in  the 
event  of  our  success.  We  can  not  have  all  the 
spoils.  To  join  the  kingdom  and  the  duchy  will 
create  new  offices,  to  be  sure,  but  we  can  have  only 
part  of  them.  As  to  games,  I  shall,  out  of  the 
kindness  in  my  heart,  tell  you  that  I  am  not  play- 
ing two,  but  three.  Guess  them  if  you  can.  Xext 
to  the  chancellorship  is  the  embassy  to  Vienna,  and 
an  embassy  to  Paris  is  to  be  created.  Madame  is 
a  superior  woman.  Who  knows?"  with  a  smile 
that  caused  the  other  to  pale. 

"You   are  mad  to   dream  of  that." 

"As  you  say,  I  come  of  a  noble  house/'  care- 
lessly. 

"You  are  mad." 

"No,  count,"  the  soldier  replied.     "I  have  what 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  75 

Balzac  calls  a  thirst  for  a  full  life  in  a  short 
space." 

"I  would  give  a  deal  to  read  what  is  going  on 
in  that  head  of  yours." 

"Doubtless.  But  what  is  to  become  of  our 
friends  the  Marshal  and  Mollendorf?  What  will 
be  left  for  them?  Perhaps  there  will  be  a  cham- 
ber of  war,  a  chamber  of  the  navy.  As  a  naval 
minister  the  Marshal  would  be  nicely  placed. 
There  would  be  no  expense  of  building  ships  or 
paying  sailors,  which  would  speak  well  for  the 
economy  of  the  new  government.  The  Marshal  is 
old;  we  shall  send  him  to  Servia.  At  least  the 
office  will  pay  both  his  vanity  and  purse  to  an  ex- 
tent equal  to  that  of  his  present  office.  By  the 
way,  nothing  has  yet  been  heard  from  Prince 
Frederick.  Ah,  these  young  men,  these  plump 
peasant  girls !" 

Both  laughed. 

"Till  this  evening,  then;"  and  the  Colonel  went 
from  the  room. 

The  minister  of  finance  applied  a  match  to  the 
tapers.  He  held  the  burning  match  aloft  and  con- 
templated the  door  through  which  the  soldier  had 
gone.  The  sting  of  the  incipient  flame  aroused 
him. 

"What,"  he  mused  aloud,  as  he  arranged  the 
papers  on  his  desk,  "is  his  third  game?" 

"It  appears  to  me,"  said  a  voice  from  the  wall 
behind,  "that  the  same  question  arises  in  both  our 
minds." 

The  minister  wheeled  his  chair,  his  mouth  and 
brows  puckered  in  dismay.  From  a  secret  panel 


70  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

in  the  wall  there  stepped  forth  a  tall,  thin,  sour- 
visaged  old  man  of  military  presence.  He  calmly 
sat  down  in  the  chair  which  Beauvais  had  vacated. 

"I  had  forgotten  all  about  you,  Marshal !"  ex- 
claimed the  count,  smiling  uneasily. 

"A  statement  which  I  am  most  ready  to  be- 
lieve," replied  old  Marshal  Kampf,  with  a  glance 
which  caused  the  minister  yet  more  uneasiness. 
"What  impressed  me  among  other  things  was,  'But 
what  is  to  become  of  our  friends  the  Marshal  and 
Mollendorf?'  I  am  Marshal;  I  am  about  to  risk 
all  for  nothing.  Why  should  I  not  remain  Mar- 
shal for  the  remainder  of  my  days?  It  is  a  pleas- 
ant thing  to  go  to  Vienna  once  the  year  and  to 
witness  the  maneuvers,  with  an  honorary  position 
on  the  emperor's  staff.  To  be  Marshal  here  is  to 
hold  a  sinecure,  yet  it  has  its  compensations.  The 
uniforms,  gray  and  gold,  are  handsome;  it  is  an 
ostrich  plume  that  I  wear  in  my  chapeau  de  bras; 
the  medals  are  of  gold.  My  friend,  it  is  the  vanity 
of  old  age  which  forgives  not."  And  the  Marshal, 
the  bitterest  tongue  in  all  Bleiberg,  reached  over 
and  picked  up  the  cigar  which  lay  by  the  inkwells. 
He  lit  it  at  one  of  the  tapers,  and  sank  again  into 
the  chair.  "Count,  how  many  games  are  you 
playing?" 

"My  dear  Marshal,  it  was  not  I  who  spoke  of 
games.  I  am  playing  no  game,  save  for  the  legit- 
imate sovereign  of  this  kingdom.  I  ask  for  no 
reward." 

"Disinterested  man !  The  inference  is,  however, 
that,  since  you  have  not  asked  for  anything,  you 


T  H  E     P  U  P  P  E  T     C  K  0  W  N  77 

hare  been  promised  ioinething.  Confess  it,  and 
have  done." 

"Marshal !" 

"Well?" 

"Is  it  possible  that  you  suspect  me?"  The  cold 
eyes  grew  colder,  and  the  thin  lips  almost  disap- 
peared. 

"When  three  men  watch  each  other  as  do  Beau- 
vais,  Mollendorf  and  you,  it  is  because  each  sus- 
pects the  other  of  treachery.  You  haven't  watched 
me  because  I  am  old,  but  because  I  am  old  I  have 
been  watching  you.  Mollendorf  aspires  to  great- 
ness, you  have  your  gaze  on  the  chancellorship,  and 
curse  me  if  the  Colonel  isn't  looking  after  my  old 
shoes !  Am  I  to  give  up  my  uniform,  my  medals 
and  my  plume — for  nothing?  And  who  the  devil 
is  this  man  Beauvais,  since  that  is  not  his  name? 
Is  he  a  fine  bird  whose  feathers  have  been  plucked  ?" 

The  minister  did  not  respond  to  the  question; 
he  began  instead  to  fidget  in  his  chair. 

"When  I  gave  my  word  to  his  Highness  the 
duke,  it  was  without  conditions.  I  asked  no 
favors;  I  considered  it  my  duty.  Let  us  come  to 
an  understanding.  Material  comfort  is  necessary 
to  a  man  of  my  age.  Fine  phrases  and  a  medal 
or  two  more  do  not  count.  I  am,  then,  to  go  to 
Servia.  You  were  very  kind  to  hide  me  in  your 
cabinet." 

"It  was  to  show  you  that  I  had  no  secrets  from 
you,"  quickly. 

"Let  us  pass  on.  Mollendorf  is  to  go  to  Paris, 
where  he  will  be  a  nonentity,  while  in  his  present 
office  he  is  a  power  in  the  land —  Devil  take  me, 


78  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

but  it  seems  to  me  that  we  are  all  a  pack  of  asses! 
Our  gains  will  not  be  commensurate  with  our 
losses.  The  navy?  Well,  we'll  let  that  pass;  the 
Colonel,  I  see,  loves  a  joke/' 

"You  forget  our  patriotism  for  the  true  house." 

"Why  not  give  it  its  true  name — self-interest?" 

"Marshal,  in  heaven's  name,  what  has  stirred 
your  bile?"  The  minister  was  losing  his  patience, 
a  had  thing  for  him  to  do  in  the  presence  of  the 
old  warrior. 

"It  is  something  I've  been  swallowing  this  past 
year."  The  Marshal  tipped  the  ash  of  his  cigar 
into  the  waste  basket. 

"Marshal,  will  you  take  the  word  not  of  the 
minister,  but  of  the  von  Wallenstein,  that  what- 
ever my  reward  shall  be  for  my  humble  services, 
yours  shall  not  be  less?" 

"Thanks,  but  I  have  asked  for  no  reward.  If 
I  accepted  gain  for  what  I  do,  I  should  not  be 
too  old  to  blush." 

"I  do  not  understand." 

"Self-interest  blinds  us.  I  have  nothing  but 
pity  for  this  king  whose  only  crime  is  an  arch- 
bishop; and  I  can  not  accept  gain  at  his  expense; 
I  should  blush  for  shame.  Had  I  my  way,  he 
should  die  in  peace.  He  has  not  long  to  live. 
The  archbishop — well,  we  can  not  make'  kings,  they 
are  born.  But  there  is  one  thing  more:  Over  all 
your  schemes  is  the  shadow  of  Austria." 

"Austria?" 

"Yes.  The  Colonel  speaks  of  a  power  behind 
him.  Bismarck  looks  hungrily  toward  Schleswig- 
Holstein.  Austria  casts  amorous  eyes  at  us.  A 


THE     PUPPET     CEOWN  79 

protectorate?  We  did  not  need  it.  It  was  forced 
on  us.  When  Austria  assumed  to  dictate  to  us  as 
to  who  should  be  king,  she  also  robbed  us  of  our 
true  independence.  Twenty  years  ago  there  was 
no  duchy;  it  was  all  one  kingdom.  Who  created 
this  duchy  when  Albrecht  came  on  the  throne? 
Austria.  Why?  If  we  live  we  shall  read."  He 
rose,  shook  his  lean  legs.  "I  have  been  for  the 
most  part  neutral.  I  shall  remain  neutral.  There 
is  an  undercurrent  on  which  you  have  failed  to 
reckon.  Austria,  mistress  of  the  confederation. 
There  are  two  men  whom  you  must  watch.  One 
is  the  archbishop." 

"The  archbishop?"  The  minister  was  surprised 
that  the  Marshal  should  concur  with  the  Colonel. 
"And  the  other?" 

"Your  friend  the  Colonel,"  starting  for  the  door. 

The  minister  smiled.  "Will  you  not  dine  with 
me?"  he  asked. 

"Thanks.  But  I  have  the  Servian  minister  on 
my  hands  to-night.  A  propos,  tell  the  Colonel  that 
I  decline  Belgrade.  I  prefer  to  die  at  home." 
And  he  vanished. 

Von  Wallenstein  reviewed  the  statements  of 
both  his  visitors.  . 

"I  shall  watch  Monseigneur  the  archbishop." 
Then  he  added,  with  a  half -smile:  "God  save  us 
if  the  Marshal's  sword  were  half  so  sharp  as  his 
tongue !  It  was  careless  of  me  to  forget  that  I 
had  shut  him  up  in  the  cabinet." 

Meanwhile  Beauvais  walked  slowly  toward  his 
quarters,  with  his  saber  caught  up  under  his  arm. 


SO  THE    PUPPET     CKOWN 

Once   he   turned   and   gazed   at   the   palace,   whose 
windows  began  to  flash  with  light. 

"Yes,  they  are  puppets  and  jackals,  and  I  am 
the  lion.  For  all  there  shall  serve  my  ends.  I 
shall  win,  and  when  I  do — "  He  laughed  silently 
"Well,  I  am  a  comely  man,  and  Madame  the 
duchess  shall  be  my  wife." 


CHAPTER  VI 

MADEMOISELLE   OF   THE   VEIL 

The  public  park  at  night  was  a  revelation  to 
Maurice,  who,  lonely  and  restless,  strolled  over 
from  the  hotel  in  quest  of  innocent  amusement. 
He  was  none  the  worse  for  his  unintended  bath ; 
indeed,  if  anything,  he  was  much  the  better  for  it. 
His  imagination  was  excited.  It  was  not  every 
day  that  a  man  could,  at  one  and  the  same  time, 
fall  out  of  a  boat  and  into  the  presence  of  a 
princess  of  royal  blood. 

He  tried  to  remember  all  he  had  said  to  her,  but 
only  two  utterances  recurred  to  him;  yet  these 
caused  him  an  exhilaration  like  the  bouquet  of  old 
wine.  He  had  told  her  that  she  was  beautiful,  in- 
directly, it  was  true;  she  had  accepted  his  friend- 
ship, also  indirectly,  it  was  true.  Now  the  logical 
sequence  of  all  this  was — but  he  broke  into  a 
light  laugh.  What  little  vanity  he  possessed  was 
without  conceit.  Princesses  of  royal  blood  were 
beyond  the  reach  of  logical  sequence;  and  besides, 
she  was  to  be  married  on  the  twentieth  of  the 
month. 

He  followed  one  of  the  paths  which  led  to  the 
81 


8-2  THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

pavilion.  It  was  a  charming  scene,  radiant  with 
gas  lamps,  the  vivid  kaleidoscope  of  gowns  and 
uniforms.  Beautiful  faces  flashed  past  him.  There 
were  in  the  air  the  vague  essences  of  violet,  rose 
and  heliotrope.  Sometimes  he  caught  the  echo  of 
low  laughter  or  the  snatch  of  a  gay  song.  The 
light  of  the  lamps  shot  out  on  the  crinkled  surface 
of  the  lake  in  tongues  of  quivering  flame,  which 
danced  a  brave  gavot  with  the  phantom  stars; 
and  afar  twinkled  the  dipping  oars.  The  brilliant 
pavilion,  which  rested  partly  over  land  and  partly 
over  water,  was  thronged. 

The  band  was  playing  airs  from  the  operas  of 
the  day,  and  Maurice  yielded  to  the  spell  of  the 
romantic  music.  He  leaned  over  the  pavilion  rail, 
and  out  of  the  blackness  below  he  endeavored  to 
conjure  up  the  face  of  Xell  (or  was  it  Kate?) 
who  had  danced  with  him  at  the  embassies  in 
Vienna,  fenced  and  ridden  with  him,  till — till — 
with  a  gesture  of  impatience  he  flung  away  the 
end  of  his  cigar. 

Memory  was  altogether  too  elusive.  It  was 
neither  Nell  nor  Kate  he  saw  smiling  up  at  him, 
nor  anybody  else  in  the  world  but  the  Princess 
Alexia,  whose  eyes  were  like  wine  in  a  sunset, 
whose  lips  were  as  red  as  the  rose  of  Tours  in 
France,  and  whose  voice  was  sweeter  than  that 
throbbing  up  from  the  'cello.  If  he  thought  much 
more  of  her,  there  would  be  a  logical  sequence  on 
his  side.  He  laughed  again — with  an  effort — and 
settled  back  in  his  chair  to  renew  his  interest  in 
the  panorama  revolving  around  him. 

"They  certainly  know  how  to  live  in  these  coun- 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  83 

tries,"  he  thought,  "for  all  their  comic  operas. 
All  I  need,  to  have  this  fairy  scene  made  com- 
plete, is  a  woman  to  talk  to.  By  George,  what's 
to  hinder  me  from  finding  one?"  he  added,  seized 
by  the  spirit  of  mischief.  He  turned  his  head 
this  way  and  that.  "Ah!  doubtless  there  is  the 
one  I'm  looking  for.'" 

Seated  alone  at  a  table  behind  him  was  a 
woman  dressed  in  gray.  Her  back  was  toward 
him,  but  he  lost  none  of  the  beautiful  contours 
of  her  figure.  She  wore  a  gray  alpine  hat,  below 
the  rim  of  which  rebellious  little  curls  escaped, 
curls  of  a  fine  red-brown,  which,  as  they  trailed 
to  the  nape  of  the  firm  white  neck,  lightened  into 
a  ruddy  gold.  Her  delicate  head  was  turned 
aside,  and  to  all  appearances  her  gaze  was  di- 
rected to  the  entrance  to  the  pavilion.  A  heavy 
blue  veil  completely  obscured  her  features;  though 
Maurice  could  see  a  rose-tinted  ear  and  the 
shadow  of  a  curving  chin  and  throat,  which  prom- 
ised much.  To  a  man  there  is  always  a  mystery 
lurking  behind  a  veil.  So  he  rose,  walked  past 
her,  returned  and  deliberately  sat  down  in  the 
chair  opposite  to  hers.  The  fact  that  gendarme: 
moved  among  the  crowd  did  not  disturb  him. 

"Good  evening,  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  politely 
lifting  his  hat. 

She  straightened  haughtily.  "Monsieur,"  she 
said,  resentment,  consternation  and  indignation 
struggling  to  predominate  in  her  tones,  "I  did  not 
give  you  permission  to  sit  down.  You  are  im- 
pertinent !" 

"0,  no,"  Maurice  declared.     "I  am  not  imperti- 


84  THE     PUPPET     CROWS 

nent.  I  am  lonesome.  In  all  Bleiberg  I  haven't 
a  goul  to  talk  to,  excepting  the  hotel  waiters,  and 
they  are  uninteresting.  Grant  me  the  privilege  of 
conversing  with  you  for  a  moment.  We  shall 
never  meet  again;  and  I  should  not  know  you  if 
we  did.  Whether  \OVL  are  old  or  young,  plain  or 
beautiful,  it  matters  not.  My  only  wish  is  to  talk 
to  a  woman,  to  hear  a  woman's  voice." 

"Shall  I  call  a  gendarme,  Monsieur,  and  have 
him  search  for  your  nurse?"  The  attitude  which 
accompanied  these  words  was  anything  but  assur- 
ing. 

He,  however,  evinced  no  alarm.  He  even  laughed. 
"That  was  good!  We  shall  get  along  finely,  I  am 
sure." 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,  rising,  "I  repeat  that  I 
do  not  desire  your  company,  nor  to  remain  in  the 
presence  of  your  unspeakable  effrontery." 

"I  beseech  you !"  implored  Maurice,  also  rising. 
"I  am  a  foreigner,  lonesome,  unhappy,  thousands 
of  miles  from  home — " 

"You  are  English?"  suddenly.  She  stood  with 
the  knuckle  of  her  forefinger  on  her  lips  as  if 
meditating.  She  sat  down. 

Maurice,  greatly  surprised,  also  sat  down. 

"English?"  he  repeated.  His  thought  was: 
"What  the  deuce !  This  is  the  third  time  I  have 
been  asked  that.  Who  is  this  gay  Lothario  the 
women  seem  to  be  expecting?"  To  her  he  con- 
tinued: "And  why  do  jrou  ask  me  that?" 

"Perhaps  it  is  your  accent.  And  what  do  you 
wish  to  say  to  me,  Monsieur?"  It  was  a  voice  of 
quality;  all  the  anger  had  gone  from  it.  She 


THE     PUPPET     CEOWN  85 

leaned  on  her  elbows,  her  chin  in  her  palms,  and 
through  the  veil  he  caught  the  sparkle  of  a  pair 
of  wonderful  eyes.  "Let  us  converse  in  English," 
she  added.  "It  is  so  long  since  I  have  had  occa- 
sion to  speak  in  that  tongue."  She  repeated  her 
question. 

"0,  I  had  no  definite  plan  outlined,"  he  an- 
swered ;  "just  generalities,  with  the  salt  of  repartee 
to  season."  He  pondered  over  this  sudden  transi- 
tion from  wrath  to  mildness.  An  Englishman? 
Very  well;  it  might  grow  interesting. 

"Is  it  customary  among  the  English  to  request 
to  speak  to  strangers  without  the  usual  formalities 
of  an  introduction?" 

"I  can  not  say  that  it  is,"  he  answered  truth- 
fully enough;  "but  the  procedure  is  never  without 
a  certain  charm  and  excitement." 

"Ah;  then  you  were  led  to  address  me  merely 
by  the  love  of  adventure?" 

"That  is  it;  the  love  of  adventure.  I  should 
not  have  spoken  to  you  had  you  not  worn  the 
veil."  He  remarked  that  her  English  was  excel- 
lent. 

"You  differ  from  the  average  Englishman,  who 
is  usually  wrapt  up  in  himself  and  has  no  desire 
to  talk  to  strangers.  You  have  been  a  soldier." 

The  evolutions  of  his  cane  ceased.  "How  in 
the  world  did  you  guess  that?"  surprised  beyond 
measure. 

"Perhaps  there  is  something  suggestive  in  your 
shoulders." 

He  tried  to  peer  behind  the  veil,  but  in  vain. 
"Am  I  speaking  to  one  I  have  met  before?" 


86  THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

"I  believe  not;  indeed,  sir,  I  am  positive." 

"I  have  been  a  soldier,  but  my  shoulders  did 
not  tell  you  that." 

"Perhaps  I  have  the  gift  of  clairvoyance,"  gaz- 
ing again  toward  the  entrance. 

"Or  perhaps  you  have  been  to  Vienna." 

"Who  knows?  Most  Englishmen  are,  or  have 
been,  soldiers." 

"That  is  true."  Inwardly,  "There's  my  friend 
the  Englishman  again.  She's  guessing  closer  than 
she  knows.  Curious;  she  has  mistaken  me  for 
some  one  she  does  not  know,  if  that  is  possible." 
He  was  somewhat  in  a  haze.  "Well,  you  have  re- 
markable eyes.  However,  let  us  talk  of  a  more 
interesting  subject;  for  instance,  yourself.  You. 
too,  love  adventure,  that  is,  if  I  interpret  the  veil 
rightly." 

"Yes;  I  like  to  see  without  being  seen.  But, 
of  course,  behind  this  love  of  adventure  which  you 
possess,  there  is  an  important  mission." 

"Ah !"  he  thought ;  "you  are  not  quite  sure  of 
me."  Aloud,  "Yes,  I  came  here  to  witness  the 
comic  opera." 

"The  comic  opera?     I  do  not  understand?" 

"I  believed  there  was  going  to  be  trouble  be- 
tween the  duchy  and  the  kingdom,  but  unfortu- 
nately the  prima  donna  has  refused  the  part." 

"The  prima  donna !"  in  a  muffled  voice.  "Whom 
do  you  mean?" 

"Son  Altesse  la  Grande  Duchesse!  'Void  le 
sabre  de  mon  pere!":  And  he  whistled  a  bar  from 
Offenbach,  his  eyes  dancing. 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN  87 

"Sir ! — I ! — you  do  wrong  to  laugh,  at  us  I"  a 
flash  from  the  half-hidden  eyes. 

"Forgive  me  if  I  have  offended  you,  but  I — " 

"Ah,  sir,  but  you  who  live  in  a  powerful  coun- 
try think  we  little  folk  have  no  hearts,  that  we 
have  no  wrongs  to  redress,  no  dreams  of  conquest 
and  of  power.  You  are  wrong/' 

"And  whose  side  do  you  defend?" 

"I  am.  a  woman,"  was  the  equivocal  answer. 

"Which  means  that  you  are  uncertain/' 

"I  have  long  ago  made  up  my  mind." 

"Wonderful !  I  always  thought  a  woman's  mind 
w.aj  like  a  time-table,  subject  to  change  without 
notice.  So  you  have  made  up  your  mind?" 

"I  was  born  with  its  purpose  defined,"  coldly. 

"Ah,  now  I  begin  to  doubt." 

"What?"  with  a  still  lower  degree  of  warmth. 

"That  you  are  a  woman.  Only  goddesses  do 
not  change  their  minds — sometimes.  Well,  then 
you  are  on  the  weaker  side." 

"Or  the  stronger,  since  there  are  two  sides." 

"And  the  stronger?"  persistently. 

"The  side  which  is  not  the  weaker.  But  the 
subject  is  what  you  English  call  'taboo/  It  is 
treading  on  delicate  ground  to  talk  politics  in  the 
open — especially  in  Bleiberg." 

"What  a  diplomat  you  would  make!"  he  cried 
with  enthusiasm.  Certainly  this  was  a  red-letter 
day  in  his  calendar.  This  adventure  almost 
equalled  the  other,  and,  besides,  in  this  instance, 
his  skin  was  dry;  he  could  enjoy  it  more  thor- 
oughly. Who  could  this  unknown  be?  "If  only 


88  THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

you  understood  the  mystery  with  which  you  hare 
enshrouded  yourself !" 

"I  do."  She  drew  the  veil  more  firmly  about 
her  chin. 

"Grant  me  a  favor." 

"I  am  talking  to  you,  sir/* 

This  candor  did  not  disturb  him.  "The  favor  I 
ask  is  that  you  will  lift  the  corner  of  your  veil; 
otherwise  you  will  haunt  me." 

"I  am  doomed  to  haunt  you,  then.  If  I  should 
lift  the  corner  of  my  veil  something  terrible  would 
happen." 

"What !     Are  you  as  beautiful  as  that  ?" 

There  was  a  flash  of  teeth  behind  the  veil,  fol- 
lowed by  the  ripple  of  soft  laughter.  "It  is  diffi- 
cult to  believe  you  to  be  English.  You  are  more 
like  one  of  those  absurd  Americans." 

Maurice  did  not  like  the  adjective.  "I  am  one 
of  them,"  wondering  what  the  effect  of  this  admis- 
sion would  be.  "I  am  not  English,  but  of  the 
brother  race.  Forgive  me  if  I  have  imposed  on 
you,  but  it  was  your  fault.  You  said  that  I  was 
English,  and  I  was  too  lonesome  to  enlighten  you." 

"You  are  an  American?"  She  began  to  tap  her 
gloved  fingers  against  the  table. 

"Yes." 

Then,  to  his  astonishment,  she  gave  way  to 
I  laughter,  honest  and  hearty.  "How  dense  of  me 
not  to  have  known  the  moment  you  addressed  me! 
Who  but  the  American  holds  in  scorn  custom's 
formalities  and  usages?  Your  grammar  is  good, 
BO  good  that  my  mistake  is  pardonable.  The 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWN  89 

American  is  always  like  the  terrible  infant;  and 
you  are  a  choice  example." 

Maurice  was  not  so  pleased  as  he  might  have 
been.  His  ears  burned.  Still,  he  went  forward 
bravely.  "A  man  never  pretends  to  be  an  English- 
man without  getting  into  trouble." 

"I  did  not  ask  to  speak  to  you.  No  one  ever 
pretends  to  be  an  American.  Why  is  it  you  are 
always  ashamed  of  your  country?"  with  malice 
aforethought.  , 

Maurice  experienced  the  sting  of  many  bees.  "I 
see  that  your  experience  is  limited  to  impostors. 
I,  Mademoiselle,  am  proud  of  my  country,  the 
great,  free  land  which  stands  aside  from  the  tur- 
moil and  laughs  at  your  petty  squabbles,  your 
kings,  your  princes.  Laugh  at  me;  I  deserve  it 
for  not  minding  my  own  business,  but  do  not 
laugh  at  my  country."  His  face  was  flushed;  he 
was  almost  angry.  It  was  not  her  words;  it  was 
the  contempt  with  which  she  had  invested  them. 
But  immediately  he  was  ashamed  of  his  outburst. 
"All,  Mademoiselle,  you  have  tricked  me;  you  have 
found  the  vulnerable  part  in  my  armor.  I  have 
spoken  like  a  child.  Permit  me  to  apologize  for 
my  apparent  lack  of  breeding."  He  rose,  bowed, 
and  made  as  though  to  depart. 

"Sit  down,  Monsieur,"  she  said,  picking  up  her 
French  again.  "I  forgive  you.  I  do  more;  I  ad- 
mire. I  see  that  your  freak  had  nothing  behind 
it  but  mischief.  No  woman  need  fear  a  man  who 
colors  when  his  country  is  made  the  subject  of  a 
jest." 


90  THE     PUPPET     C  R  0  W  X 

All  his  anger  evaporated.  This  was  an  invita- 
tion, and  he  accepted  it.  He  resumed  his  seat. 

"The  truth  is,  as  I  remarked,  I  was  lonesome. 
I  know  that  I  have  committed  a  transgression,  but 
the  veil  tempted  me." 

"It  is  of  no  matter.  A  few  moments,  and  you 
will  be  gone.  I  am  waiting  for  some  one.  You 
may  talk  till  that  person  comes."  Her  voice  was 
now  in  its  natural  tone;  and  he  was  convinced  that 
if  her  face  were  half  as  sweet,  she  must  possess 
rare  beauty.  "Hush!"  as  the  band  began  to 
breathe  forth  Chopin's  polonaise.  They  listened 
until  the  music  ceased. 

"Ah!"  said  he  rapturously,  "the  polonaise! 
When  you  hear  it,  does  there  not  recur  to  you 
some  dream  of  bygone  happy  hours,  the  sibilant 
murmur  of  fragrant  night  winds  through  the  crisp 
foliage,  the  faint  call  of  Diana's  horn  from  the 
woodlands,  moon-fairies  dancing  on  the  spider- 
webs,  the  glint  of  the  dew  on  the  roses,  the  far- 
off  music  of  the  surges  tossing  impotently  on  the 
sands,  the  forgetfulness  of  time  and  place  and 
care,  and  not  a  cloud  'twixt  you  and  the  heavens? 
Ah,  the  polonaise !" 

"Surely  you  must  be  a  poet!"  declared  the  Veil, 
when  this  panegyric  was  done. 

"No,"  said  he  modestly,  "I  never  was  quite 
poor  enough  for  that  exalted  position."  He  had 
recovered  his  good  humor. 

"Indeed,  you  begin  to  interest  me.  What  is 
your  occupation  when  not  in  search  of — comic 
operas  ?" 

"I  serve  Ananias." 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  91 

"Ananias?"  A  pause.  "Ah,  you  are  a  diplo- 
mat?" 

"How  clever  of  you  to  guess." 

"Yours  is  a  careless  country,"  observed  the  Veil. 

"Careless  ?"  mystified. 

"Yes,  to  send  forth  her  green  and  salad  youth. 
Eh,  Men!  There  are  hopes  for  you.  If  you  live 
you  will  grow  old;  you  will  become  bald  and  re- 
served; you  will  not  speak  to  strangers,  to  while 
away  an  idle  hour;  for  permit  me,  Monsieur,  who 
am  wise,  to  tell  you  that  it  is  a  dangerous  prac- 
tice." 

"And  do  I  look  so  very  young?" 

"Your  beard  is  that  of  a  boy." 

"David  slew  Goliath." 

"At  least  you  have  a  ready  tongue,"   laughing. 

"And  you  told  me  that  I  had  been  a  soldier." 

But  to  this  she  had  nothing  to  say. 

"I  am  older  than  you  think,  Mademoiselle  of 
the  Veil.  I  have  been  a  soldier;  I  have  seen  hard 
service,  too.  Mine  is  no  cushion  sword.  Youth? 
'Tis  a  virtue,  not  a  crime;  and,  besides,  it  is  an 
excellent  disguise." 

For  some  time   she  remained  pensive. 

"You  are  thinking  of  something,  Mademoiselle." 

"Do  you  like  adventure?" 

"I  subsist  on  it." 

"You  have  been  a  soldier;  you  are,  then, 
familiar  with  the  use  of  arms?" 

"They  tell  me  so,"  modestly.     What  was  coming? 

"I  have  some  influence.     May  I  trust  you?" 

"On  my  honor,"  puzzled,  yet  eager. 

"There  may  be  a  comic  opera,  as  you  call  it. 


92  THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

WIT  is  not  so  impossible  as  to  be  laughed  at.  The 
dove  may  fly  away  and  the  ravens  comer" 

"Who  in  thunder  might  this  woman  be?"  he 
thought. 

"And/'  went  on  the  Veil,  "an  extra  saber  might 
be  used.  Give  me  your  address,  in  case  I  should 
find  it  necessary  to  send  for  you." 

Now  Maurice  was  a  wary  youth.  Under  ordi-t 
nary  circumstances  he  would  have  given  a  ficti- 
tious address  to  this  strange  sybil  with  the  proph- 
ecy of  war;  for  he  had  accosted  her  only  in  the 
spirit  of  fun.  But  here  was  the  key  which  he  had 
been  seeking,  the  key  to  all  that  had  brought  him 
to  Bleiberg.  Intrigue,  adventure,  or  whatever  it 
was,  and  to  whatever  end,  he  plunged  into  it.  He 
drew  out  a  card  case,  selected  a  card  on  which  he 
wrote  "Room  12,  Continental,"  and  passed  it  over 
the  table.  She  read  it,  and  slipped  it  into  her 
purse. 

Maurice  thought:  "Who  wouldn't  join  the 
army  with  such  recruiting  officers?" 

While  the  pantomime  took  place,  a  man  pushed 
by  Maurice's  chair  and  crossed  over  to  the  table 
recently  occupied  by  him.  He  sat  down,  lit  a 
short  pipe,  rested  his  feet  on  the  lowest  rung  of 
the  ladder-like  railing,  and  contemplated  the  west- 
ern hills,  which  by  now  were  enveloped  in  moon 
mists.  Neither  Maurice  nor  his  mysterious  vis^h- 
vif  remarked  him.  Indeed,  his  broad  back  afforded 
but  small  attraction.  And  if  he  puffed  his  pipe 
fiercely,  nobody  cared,  since  the  breeze  carried  th« 
smoke  waterward. 

After  putting  the  card  into  her  purse,  Mademoi- 


TUB     PUPPET     CROW  N  93 

• 
selle  of  the  Yell's  gaze  once  more  wandered  toward 

the  entrance,  and  this  time  it  grew  fixed.  Maurice 
naturally  followed  it,  and  he  saw  a  tall  soldier  in 
fatigue  dress  elbowing  his  way  through  the  crush. 
Many  moved  aside  for  him;  those  in  uniform  sa- 
luted. 

"Monsieur/"'  came  from  behind  the  veil,  "you 
may  go  now.  I  dismiss  you.  If  I  have  need  of 
you  I  promise  to  send  for  you." 

He  stood  up.  "I  thank  you  for  the  entertain- 
ment and  the  promise  you  extend.  I  shall  be  easily 
found,"  committing  himself  to  nothing.  "I  sup- 
pose you  are  a  person  of  importance  in  affairs." 

"It  is  not  unlikely.  I  see  that  you  love  adven- 
ture for  its  own  sake,  for  you  have  not  asked  me 
if  it  be  the  duchy  or  the  kingdom.  Adieu,  Mon- 
sieur," with  a  careless  wave  of  the  gray-gloved 
hand.  "Adieu !" 

He  took  his  dismissal  heroically  and  shot  a  final 
glance  at  the  approaching  soldier.  His  brows  came 
together. 

"Where,"  he  murmured,  "have  I  seen  that  pic- 
turesque countenance  before?  Not  in  Europe;  but 
where?"  He  caught  the  arm  of  a  passing  gen- 
darme. "Who  is  that  gentleman  in  fatigue  uni- 
form, coming  this  way?" 

"That,  Monsieur,"  answered  the  gendarme  in 
tones  not  unmixed  with  awe,  "is  Colonel  Beauvais 
of  the  royal  cuirassiers." 

"Thanks.  ...  Beauvais;  I  do  not  remem- 
ber the  name.  Truly  I  have  had  experiences  to- 
day. Ajid  for  what  house  is  Mademoiselle  of  the 


94  THE    PUPPET     CEOWN 

< 

Veil?     Eavens?     War?     'Void    le    sabre    de    mon 
pere !' "  and  with  a  gay  laugh  he  went  his  way. 

Meanwhile  Colonel  Beauvais  arrived  at  the  table, 
tipped  his  hat  to  the  Veil,  who  rose  and  laid  a 
hand  on  his  arm.  He  guided  her  through  the 
pressing  crowds. 

"Ah,  Madame,"  he  said,  "you  are  very  brave  to 
choose  such  a  rendezvous." 

"Danger  is  a  tonic  to  the  ill-spirited,"  was  the 
reply. 

"If  aught  should  happen  to  you — " 

"It  was  in  accord  with  her  wishes  that  I  am 
here.  She  suffers  from  impatience;  and  I  would 
risk  much  to  satisfy  her  whims." 

"So  would  I,  Madame;  even  life."  There  was 
a  tremor  of  passion  in  his  voice,  but  she  appeared 
not  to  notice  it.  "Here  is  a  nook  out  of  the  lights; 
we  may  talk  here  with  safety." 

"And  what  is  the  news?"  she  asked. 

"This:  The  man  remains  still  in  obscurity. 
But  he  shall  be  found.  Listen,"  and  his  voice  fell 
into  a  whisper. 

"Austria?"  Mademoiselle  of  the  Veil  pressed 
her  hands  together  in  excitement.  "Is  it  true?" 

"Did  I  not  promise  you?  It  is  so  true  that  the 
end  is  in  sight.  Conspiracy  is  talked  openly  in 
the  streets,  in  the  cafes,  everywhere.  The  Osians 
will  be  sand  in  the  face  of  a  tidal  wave.  A  word 
from  me,  and  Kronau  follows  it.  It  all  would  be 
so  easy  were  it  not  for  the  archbishop." 

"The  archbishop?"  contemptuously. 

"Ay,  Madame;  he  is  a  man  so  deep,  with  a  mind 
so  abyssmal,  that  I  would  give  ten  years  of  my 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN  95 

life  for  a  flash  of  his  thoughts.  He  has  some 
project;  apparently  he  gives  his  whole  time  to  the 
king.  He  loves  this  weak  man  Leopold;  he  has 
sacrificed  the  red  hat  for  him,  for  the  hat  would 
have  taken  him  to  Italy,  as  we  who  procured  it 
intended  it  should." 

"The  archbishop?  Trust  me;  one  month  from 
now  he  will  be  recalled.  That  is  the  news  I  have 
for  you." 

"You  have  taken  a  weight  from  my  mind.  What 
do  you  think  in  regard  to  the  rumor  of  the  prince 
and  the  peasant  girl?" 

"It  afforded  me  much  amusement.  You  are  a 
man  of  fine  inventions." 

"Gaze  toward  the  upper  end  of  the  pavilion,  the 
end  which  we  have  just  left.  Yes — there.  I  am 
having  the  owner  of  those  broad  shoulders  watched. 
That  gendarme  leaning  against  the  pillar  follows 
him  wherever  he  goes." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"That  I  am  trying  to  ascertain.  This  much — 
he  is  an  Englishman." 

Mademoiselle  of  the  Veil  laughed.  "Pardon  my 
irrelevancy,  but  the  remembrance  of  a  recent  ad- 
venture of  mine  was  too  strong." 

Maurice  could  not  regain  his  interest  in  the 
scene.  He  strolled  in  and  out  of  the  moving 
groups,  but  no  bright  eyes  or  winning  smiles  al- 
lured him.  Impelled  by  curiosity,  he  began  to 
draw  near  the  shadowed  nook.  Curiosity  in  a  jour- 
nalist is  innate,  and  time  nor  change  can  efface  it. 
Curiosity  in  those  things  which  do  not  concern  us 


96  THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

is  wrong.  Ethics  disavows  the  practice,  though 
philosophy  sustains  it.  Perhaps  in  this  instance 
Maurice  was  philosophical,  not  ethical.  Perhaps  he 
wanted  to  hear  the  woman's  voice  again,  which  was 
excusable.  Perhaps  it  was  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other,  but  fate,  which  directed  his  footsteps. 
Certain  it  is  that  the  subsequent  adventures  would 
never  have  happened  had  he  gone  about  his  busi- 
ness, as  he  should  have  done. 

"Who  is  this  who  stares  at  us?"  asked  Beauvais, 
with  a  piercing  glance  and  a  startled  movement  of 
his  shoulders. 

"A  disciple  of  Pallas  and  a  pupil  of  Mars,"  was 
the  answer.  "I  have  been  recruiting,  Colonel. 
There  is  sharpness  sometimes  in  new  blades.  Do 
not  draw  him  with  your  eyes." 

The  Colonel  continued  his  scrutiny,  however, 
and  there  was  an  ugly  droop  at  the  corners  of 
his  mouth,  though  it  was  partly  hidden  under  hi:? 
mustache. 

Maurice,  aware  that  he  was  not  wanted,  passed 
along,  having  in  mind  to  regain  his  former  seat 
by  the  railing. 

"Colonel,"  he  mused,  "your  face  grows  more 
familiar  every  moment.  It  was  not  associated 
with  agreeable  things.  But,  what  were  they? 
Hang  it!  you  shall  have  a  place  in  my  thoughts 
till  I  have  successfully  labeled  you.  Humph ! 
Some  one  seems  to  have  appropriated  my  seat." 

He  viewed  with  indecision  the  broad  back  of 
the  interloper,  who  at  that  moment  turned  his 
head.  At  the  sight  of  that  bronzed  profile  Maurice 
gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and  delight.'  He 


THE    PUPPET    CROWN  07 

stepped    forward    and    dropped    his    hand    on    the 
stranger's  shoulder. 

"John   Fitzgerald,  or  henceforth  garlic  shall   be 
my  salad !"  he  cried  in  loud,  exultant  tones. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SOME   DIALOGUE,   A   SPRAINED   ANKLE,   AND   SOME 
SOLDIERS 

The  stranger  returned  Maurice's  salute  with 
open-mouthed  dismay;  the  monocle  fell  from  his 
eye,  he  grasped  the  table  with  one  hand  and  pushed 
back  the  chair  with  the  other,  while  Maurice  heard 
the  name  of  an  exceedingly  warm  place. 

The  gendarme,  who  was  leaning  against  the  pil- 
lar, straightened,  opened  his  jaws,  snapped  them, 
and  hurried  off. 

"Maurice — Maurice  Carewe?"  said  the  bewil- 
dered Englishman. 

"No  one  else,  though  I  must  say  you  do  not 
seem  very  glad  to  see  me/'  Maurice  answered, 
conscious  that  he  was  all  things  but  welcome. 

"Hang  you,  I'm  not !"  incogitantly. 

"Go  to  the  devil,  then !"  cried  Maurice,  hotly. 

"Gently,"  said  Fitzgerald,  catching  Maurice  by 
the  coat  and  pulling  him  down  into  a  chair. 
"Confound  you,  could  you  not  have  made  yourself 
known  to  me  without  yelling  my  name  at  the  top 
of  your  voice?" 

"Are  you  ashamed  of  it?"  asked  Maurice,  loos- 
ing his  coat  from  Fitzgerald's  grip. 

98 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN  99 

"I'm  afraid  of  it,"  the  Englishman  admitted, 
in  a  lowered  voice.  "And  your  manly,  resonant 
tones  have  cast  it  abroad.  I  am  here  incognito." 

"Who  the  deuce  are  you?" 

"I  am  Don  Jahpet  of  Armenia;  that  is  to  say 
that  I  am  a  marked  man.  And  now,  as  you 
would  inelegantly  express  it,  you  have  put  a  tag 
on  me.  When  I  left  you  in  Vienna  the  other  day 
I  lied  to  you.  I  am  sorry.  I  should  have  trusted 
you,  only  I  did  not  wish  you  to  risk  your  life. 
You  would  have  insisted  on  coming  along." 

"Risked  my  life?"  echoed  Maurice.  "How 
many  times  have  I  not  risked  it?  By  the  way," 
impressed  by  a  sudden  thought,  "are  you  the  En- 
glishman every  one  seems  to  be  expecting?" 

"Yes."  Fitzgerald  knocked  his  pipe  against  the 
railing.  "I  am  the  man.  Worse  luck !  Was  any 
one  near  when  you  called  me  by  name?" 

"Only  one  of  those  wooden  gendarmes." 

"Only  one  of  those  wooden  gendarmes !"  iron- 
ically. "Only  one  of  those  dogs  who  have  been 
at  my  heels  ever  since  I  arrived.  And  he,  having 
heard,  has  gone  back  to  his  master.  Well,  since 
you  have  started  the  ball  rolling,  it  is  no  more 
than  fair  that  you  should  see  the  game  to  its  end." 

"What's  it  all  about?"  asked  Maurice,  his  aston- 
ishment growing  and  growing. 

"Where  are  your  rooms?" 

"You  have  something  important  to  tell  me?" 

"Perhaps  you  may  think  so.  At  the  Conti- 
nental? Come  along." 

They  passed  out  of  the  pavilion,  along  the  path 
to  the  square,  thence  to  the  terrace  of  the  Conti- 


100         THE    PUPPET     CKOWN 

nental,  which  they  mounted.  Not  a  word  was 
said,  but  Maurice  was  visibly  excited,  and  by  con- 
stant gnawing  ruined  his  cigar.  He  conducted  his 
friend  to  the  room  on  the  second  floor,  the  win- 
dow of  which  opened  on  a  private  balcony.  Here 
he  placed  two  chairs  and  a  small  table;  and  with 
a  bottle  of  tokayer  between  them  they  seated 
themselves. 

"What's   it  all   about?" 

"0,  only  a  crown  and  a  few  millions  in  money." 

"Only  a  crown  and  a  few  millions  in  money," 
repeated  Maurice  very  slowly,  for  his  mind  could 
scarcely  accept  Fitzgerald  and  these  two  greatest 
treasures  on  earth. 

A  gendarme  had  leisurely  followed  them  from 
the  park.  He  took  aside  a  porter  and  quietly 
plied  him  with  questions.  Evidently  the  answers 
were  satisfactory,  for  he  at  once  departed. 

Maurice  stared  at  the  Englishman. 

"Knocks  you  up  a  bit,  eh?"  said  Fitzgerald. 
"Well>  I  am  rather  surprised  myself;  that  is  to 
say,  I  was." 

"Eire  away,"  said  Maurice. 

"To  begin  with,  if  I  do  not  see  the  king  to- 
morrow, it  is  not  likely  that  I  ever  shall." 

"The  king?" 

"My  business  here  is  with  his  Majesty." 

Maurice  filled  the  glasses  and  pushed  one 
across  the  table. 

"Here's  !"  said  he,  and  gulped. 

Fitzgerald  drank  slowly,  however,  as  if  arrang- 
ing in  his  mind  the  salient  points  in  his  forth- 
coming narrative. 


THE    PUTPET     CROWN         101 

"I  have  never  been  an  extraordinarily  com- 
municative man;  what  I  shall  tell  you  is  known 
only  to  my  former  Colonel  and  myself.  At  Cal- 
cutta, where  you  and  I  first  met,  I  was  but  a 
Lieutenant  in  her  Majesty's.  To-day  I  am  bur- 
dened with  riches  such  as  I  know  not  how  to  use, 
and  possessor  of  a  title  which  sounds  strange  in 
my  ears." 

The  dim  light  from  the  gas-jet  in  the  room 
flickered  over  his  face,  and  Maurice  saw  that  it 
was  slightly  contorted,  as  if  by  pain. 

"My  father  was  Lord  Fitzgerald." 

"What!"  cried  Maurice,  "the  diplomat,  the  his- 
torian, the  millionaire?" 

"The  same.  Thirteen  years  ago  we  parted — a 
misunderstanding.  I  never  saw  him  again.  Six 
months  ago  he  died  and  left  me  a  fortune,  a  title 
and  a  strange  legacy;  and  it  is  this  legacy  which 
brings  me  to  Bleiberg.  Do  you  know  the  history 
of  Leopold?" 

"I  do.  This  throne  belongs  to  the  house  of 
Auersperg,  and  the  Osian  usurps.  The  fact  that 
the  minister  of  the  duchess  has  been  discredited 
was  what  brought  me  here.  Continue." 

And  Fitzgerald  proceeded  briefly  to  acquaint  the 
other  with  the  strange  caprice  of  his  father;  how, 
when  he  left  Bleiberg,  he  had  been  waylaid  and 
the  certificates  demanded ;  how  he  had  entrusted 
them  to  his  valet,  who  had  gone  by  another  route; 
how  the  duke  had  sought  him  in  Vienna  and 
made  offers,  bribes  and  threats;  how  he  had 
laughed  at  all,  and  sworn  that  Duke  Josef  should 
never  be  a  king. 


102         THE    PUPPET    CROWN 

"My  father  wished  to  save  Leopold  in  spite  of 
himself;  and  then,  he  had  no  love  for  Josef.  At 
a  dinner  given  at  the  legation,  there  was  among 
others  a  toast  to  her  Majesty.  The  duke  laughed 
and  tossed  the  wine  to  the  floor.  It  lost  him  his 
crown,  for  my  father  never  forgave  the  insult. 
When  the  duke  died,  his  daughter  took  up  the 
work  with  surprising  vigor.  It  was  all  useless; 
father  was  a  rock,  and  would  listen  neither  to 
bribes  nor  threats.  Now  they  are  after  me.  They 
have  hunted  me  in  India,  London,  and  Vienna. 
I  am  an  obscure  soldier,  with  all  my  titles  and 
riches;  they  threaten  me  with  death.  But  I  am 
here,  and  my  father's  wishes  shall  be  carried  out. 
That  is  all.  I  am  glad  that  we  have  come  to- 
gether; you  have  more  invention  than  I  have." 

"But  why  did  you  come  yourself?  You  could 
have  sent  an  agent.  That  would  have  been  sim- 
ple." 

"An  agent  might  be  bought.  It  was  necessary 
for  me  to  come.  However,  I  might  have  waited 
till  the  twentieth.  I  should  have  come  openly  and 
informed  the  British  minister  of  my  mission. 
As  to  the  pheasants,  they  could  have  waited.  Per- 
haps my  fears  are  without  foundation,  unless  you 
have  been  the  unconscious  cause  of  my  true  name 
being  known.  Every  one  has  heard  the  story.  It 
is  known  as  'Fitzgerald's  folly,'  and  has  gone  the 
rounds  of  the  'diplomatic  circles  for  ten  years.  I 
shall  ask  for  an  audience  to-morrow  morning." 

"And  these  certificates  fall  due  the  same  day 
that  the  princess  is  to  be  married,"  mused  his 
auditor.  "What  a  yarn  for  the  papers!"  his  love 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         103 

of  sensation  being  always  close  to  the  surface. 
"Your  father,  you  say,  took  four  million  crowns; 
what  became  of  the  fifth?" 

"The  duke  was  permitted  to  secure  that." 

"A  kind  of  court  plaster  for  his  wounds,  eh? 
Why  don't  you  get  that  other  million  and  run  the 
kingdom  yourself?  It's  a  great  opportunity." 
Maurice  laughed. 

"Her  Eoyal  Highness  must  not  be  forgotten.  My 
father  thought  much  of  her." 

"But  really  I  do  not  see  why  you  are  putting 
yourself  to  all  this  trouble.  The  king  will  pay  off 
the  indebtedness;  the  kingdom  is  said  to  be  rich, 
or  Austria  wouldn't  meddle  with  it." 

"The  king,  on  the  twentieth  of  this  month,  will 
be  some  three  millions  short." 

"And  since  he  can  not  pay  he  is  bankrupt.  Ah, 
I  see  the  plan.  The  duke  knew  that  he  wouldn't 
be  able  to  pay." 

"You  have  hit  it  squarely." 

"But  Austria,  having  placed  Leopold  here,  is 
his  sponsor." 

"Austria  has  too  many  debts  of  her  own;  she 
will  have  to  disavow  her  protfigfi,  which  is  a  fact 
not  unthought  of  by  the  house  of  Auersperg.  By 
constant  machination  and  intrigue  the  king's  rev- 
enues have  been  so  depleted  that  ordinary  debts 
are  troublesome.  The  archbishop,  to  stave  off  the 
probable  end,  brought  about  the  alliance  between 
the  houses  of  Carnavia  and  Osia.  My  business 
here  is  to  arrange  for  a  ten  years'  renewal  of  the 
loan,  and  that  is  what  the  duchess  wishes  to  pre- 
vent, mon  ami.  What's  to  become  of  the  king  aiid 


104         THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

his  daughter  if  aught  in  the  way  of  mishap  should 
befall  me?  I  have  not  seen  the  king,  but  I  have 
seen  her  Koyal  Highness." 

"What  is  she  like?"  Maurice  asked,  innocently. 
He  saw  no  reason  why  he  should  confide  to  the 
Englishman  his  own  adventure. 

"I'm  not  much  of  a  judge,"  said  Fitzgerald  cau- 
tiously. "I  have  lived  most  of  my  life  in  canton- 
ments where  women  were  old  and  ran  mostly  to 
tongue.  I  should  say  that  she  is  beautiful."  A 
short  sigh  followed  this  admission. 

"Ah!"  said  Maurice  with  a  loud  laugh  to  cover 
the  sudden  pang  of  jealousy  which  seized  him;  "in 
gratitude  for  saving  her  father's  throne  the  daugh- 
ter will  fall  in  love  with  you.  It  is  what  the 
dramatist  calls  logical  sequence." 

"Why  don't  you  write  novels  ?  Your  imagination 
has  no  bounds." 

"Writing  novels  is  too  much  like  work.  But 
I'm  serious.  Your  position  in  the  world  to-day  is 
nearly  equal  to  hers,  and  certainly  more  secure. 
Ah,  yes;  I  must  not  forget  that  prince.  He's  a 
lucky  dog — and  so  are  you,  for  that  matter. 
Millions  and  titles!  And  I  have  slapped  you 
cavalierly  on  the  back,  smoked  your  cigars,  drunk 
your  whisky,  and  beaten  you  at  poker !"  comically. 

"Ah,  Maurice,  it  is  neither  wealth  nor  titles; 
it  is  freedom.  I  am  like  a  boy  out  of  school  for 
good  and  all.  Women,  the  society  of  women,  who 
are  the  salt  of  earth;  that  is  what  I  want.  I  have 
knocked  out  thirteen  years  of  my  life  in  furnace 
holes,  and  have  not  met  nor  spoken  to  a  dozen 
young  women  in  all  that  time.  How  I  envy  you! 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         105 

You  know  every  one;  you  have  seen  the  world; 
you  are  at  home  in  Paris,  or  London,  or  Vienna; 
you  have  enjoyed  all  I  wish  to  enjoy." 

"Why  did  you  ever  get  into  the  army?" 

"You  ought  to  know." 

"But  it  was  bread  and  butter  to  me." 

"Well,  I  was  young;  I  saw  fame  and  glory.  If 
the  matter  under  hand  is  closed  to-morrow,  what 
do  you  say  to  the  Carpathians  and  bears?  I  shall 
not  remain  here;  some  one  will  be  looking  for 
blood.  What  do  you  say?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Maurice,  thoughtfully.  He 
was  thinking  of  Mademoiselle  of  the  Veil  and  her 
prophecy  of  ravens.  "I  don't  know  that  I  shall 
be  able.  It  is  my  opinion  that  your  part  in  the 
affair  is  only  a  curtain-raiser  to  graver  things. 
Every  one  of  importance  in  town  goes  about  with 
an  air  of  expectancy.  I  never  saw  anything  like 
it.  It  is  the  king,  the  archbishop  and  the  chan- 
cellor against  two  hundred  thousand.  You're  a 
soldier;  can't  you  smell  powder?" 

"Powder !  You  do  not  believe  the  duchess  mad 
enough  to  wage  war?" 

"Trust  a  woman  to  do  what  no  one  dreams  she 
will." 

"But  Austria  would  be  about  her  ears  in  a 
minute !" 

"Maybe.  Have  you  seen  this  Colonel  Beauvais 
of  the  royal  cuirassiers,  the  actual  head  of  the 
army  here?" 

"A  fine  soldier,"  said  the  Englishman,  heartily. 
"Rides  like  a  centaur  and  wields  a  saber  as  if  it 
were  a  piece  of  straw." 


106         THE    PUPPET    CEOWN 

"I  can  hold  a  pretty  good  blade  myself;  I've 
an  idea  that  I  can  lick  him  at  both  games." 

Fitzgerald  laughed  good-naturedly.  "There  is 
the  one  flaw  in  your  make-up.  I  admit  your  horse- 
manship; but  the  saber!  Believe  me,  it  is  only 
the  constant  practice  and  a  wrist  of  iron  which 
make  the  saber  formidable.  You  are  more 
familiar  with  the  pen;  I  dare  say  you  could  best 
him  at  that." 

"What  makes  you  think  I  can  not  lick  him?" 

"Since  when  have  the  saber  and  the  civilian  been 
on  terms?  And  these  continental  sabers  are 
matchless,  the  finest  in  the  world.  I  trust  you 
will  steer  clear  of  the  Colonel;  if  you  have  any 
challenge  in  mind,  spring  it  on  -me,  and  I'll  let 
you  down  easy."  Then:  "Why  the  devil  do  you 
want  to  lick  him,  anyway?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Maurice.  "I  had  a  close 
range  to-night,  and  somehow  the  man  went 
against  the  grain.  Well,  Jack,  I'll  stay  with  you 
in  this  affair,  though,  as  the  county  judge  at  home 
would  say,  it's  out  of  my  circuit." 

They  shook  hands  across  the  table. 

"Come,"  said  Fitzgerald;  "a  toast,  for  I  must 
be  off." 

"What  do  you  say  to  her  Eoyal  Highness?" 

"Let  us  make  it  general:  to  all  women!" 

They  set  down  the  glasses  and  shook  hands 
again. 

"It  seemed  good  to  run  across  you  in  Vienna, 
Maurice.  You  were  one  of  the  bright  spots  in 
the  old  days." 

"Do   you    want    me    to   walk    with    you    to    the 


THE.  PUPPET     CROWN         107 

Grand?  It's  a  fine  night,"  said  Maurice,  waving 
his  hand  toward  the  moon.  "By  George,  what  a 
beautiful  place  this  end  of  Bleiberg  is!  I  do  not 
wonder  that  the  duchess  covets  it." 

"No,  I'll  go  alone.  All  I  have  to  do  is  to 
march  straight  up  the  Strasse." 

"Well,  good-night  and  good  luck  to  you,"  said 
Maurice,  as  he  led  the  Englishman  into  the  hall- 
way. "Look  me  up  when  you  have  settled  the 
business.  I  say,  but  it  gets  me;  it's  the  strangest 
thing  I  ever  heard."  And  he  waited  till  the  sol- 
dierly form  disappeared  below  the  landing. 

Then  he  went  back  to  his  chair  on  the  balcony 
to  think  it  over.  At  four  o'clock  that  afternoon  he 
had  grumbled  of  dullness.  He  lit  a  pipe,  and 
contemplated  the  soft  and  delicate  blues  of  earth 
and  heaven,  the  silvery  flashes  on  the  lake,  and 
the  slim  violet  threads  of  smoke  which  wavered 
about  his  head.  It  was  late.  Now  and  then  the 
sound  of  a  galloping  horse  was  borne  up  by  the 
breeze,  and  presently  Maurice  heard  the  midnight 
bell  boom  forth  from  the  sleepy  spires  of  the 
cathedral — where  the  princess  was  to  be  married. 

One  by  one  the  lamps  of  the  park  went  out,  but 
the  moon  shone  on,  lustrous  and  splendid.  First 
he  reviewed  his  odd  adventure  in  the  archbishop's 
gardens.  He  had  spoken  to  princesses  before,  but 
they  were  women  of  the  world,  hothouse  roses  that 
bloom  and  wither  in  a  short  space.  The  atmos- 
phere which  surrounded  this  princess  was  idyllic, 
pastoral.  She  had  seen  nothing  of  the  world,  its 
sports  and  pastimes,  and  the  art  of  playing  at 
love  was  unknown  to  her.  Again  he  could  see  her 


108         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

serious  eyes,  the  delicate  chin  and  mouth,  the  oval 
cheeks,  and  the  dog  that  followed  in  her  steps. 
Here  was  an  indelible  picture  which  time  could 
'never  efface.  Something  stirred  in  his  heart,  and 
he  sighed. 

And  ah,  the  woman  in  the  veil !  Who  could  she 
be?  The  more  he  thought  of  her  the  more  con- 
vinced he  was  that  she  stood  high  in  the  service 
of  any  one  but  Leopold  of  Osia.  And  Fitzgerald ! 
That  sober  old  soldier  concerned  with  crowns  and 
millions!  It  was  incredible;  it  was  almost  laugh- 
able. They  had  met  up-country  in  India,  and  had 
hunted,  and  Maurice  had  saved  the  Englishman's 
life.  Occasionally  they  had  corresponded. 

"Well,  to  bed,"  said  the  young  diplomat.     "This 
has  been   a  full   day."     And,  like  the  true  news- 
paper man  he  was,  for  all  his  diplomacy,  he  emp- 
tied  the    bottle    and    entered    the    room.     He    was 
about   to   disrobe,   when   some  one   rapped   on  the 
door<     He   opened   it,   and   beheld   a   man   in   the 
livery  of  the  Grand  Hotel.     He  was  breathing  hard. 
"Herr  Carewe?" 
"Yes.     What's  wanted?" 
"Herr  Hamilton—" 
"Hamilton?     0,  yes.     Go  on." 
"Herr  Hamilton  bade  me  to  tell  your  Excellency 
that    in    returning    to   the    hotel    he    sprained    his 
ankle,  and  wishes  to  know  if  Herr  would  not  be 
so  kind  as  to  spend  the  night  with  him." 

"Certainly.  Eun  down  to  the  office,  and  I  shall 
be  with  you  shortly."  Again  alone,  Maurice 
opened  his  trunk.  He  brought  forth  a  pint  flask 
of  brandy,  some  old  handkerchiefs  to  be  used  as 


THE    PUPPET    CROWN         109 

bandages,  and  a  box  of  salve  he  used  for  bruises 
when  on  hunting  expeditions.  In  turning  over 
his  clothes  his  hand  came  into  contact  with  his 
old  army  revolver.  He  scratched  his  head.  "No, 
it's  too  much  like  a  cannon,  and  there's  no  room 
for  it  in  my  pockets."  He  pushed  it  aside,  rose 
and  slammed  the  lid  of  the  trunk.  "Sprained  his 
ankle?  He  wasn't  gone  more  than  an  hour.  How 
the  deuce  is  he  to  see  the  king  to-morrow?  Prob- 
ably wishes  to  appoint  me  his  agent.  That's  it. 
Very  well."  He  proceeded  to  the  office,  where 
he  found  the  messenger  waiting  for  him.  "Come 
tm,  and  put  life  into  your  steps." 

Together  they  traversed  the  moonlit  thorough- 
fare. Few  persons  were  astir.  Once  the  night 
patrol  clattered  by.  They  passed  through  the 
markets,  and  not  far  ahead  they  could  see  the 
university.  It  looked  like  a  city  prison. 

"This  is  the  hotel,  Herr,"  said  the  messenger. 

They  entered.  Maurice  approached  the  propri- 
etor, who  was  pale  and  flurried;  but  as  Maurice 
had  never  seen  the  natural  repose  of  his  counte- 
nance, he  thought  nothing  of  it. 

"My  friend,  Herr  Hamilton,  has  met  with  an 
accident.  Where  is  his  room?" 

"Number  nine;  Johann  will  show  you."  He 
acted  as  if  he  had  something  more  to  say,  but  a 
glance  from  the  round-faced  porter  silenced  him. 
Maurice  lost  much  by  not  seeing  this  glance.  He 
followed  the  messenger  up  the  stairs. 

There  were  no  transoms.  The  corridor  was  de- 
void of  illumination.  The  porter  struck  a  match 


110         THE    PUPPET     CKOWN 

and  held  it  close  to  the  panel  of  a  door  under 
which  a  thread  of  light  streamed. 

"This  is  it,  Herr,"  he  bawled,  so  loudly  that 
Maurice  started. 

"There  was  no  need  of  waking  the  dead  to  tell 
me,"  he  growled. 

The  door  opened,  and  before  Maurice  could 
brace  himself — for  the  interior  of ,  the  room  made 
all  plain  to  him — he  was  violently  pushed  over 
the  threshold  on  to  his  knees.  He  was  up  in  an 
instant.  The  room  was  filled  with  soldiers,  foot 
soldiers  of  the  king,  so  it  seemed. 

"What  the  devil  is  this?"  he  demanded,  brush- 
ing his  knees  and  cursing  himself  because  he  had 
not  brought  his  Colt  when  fate  had  put  it  almost 
in  his  hand. 

"It  is  a  banquet,  young  man.  We  were  waiting 
for  the  guest  of  honor." 

Maurice  turned  to  the  speaker,  and  saw  a  me- 
dium-sized man  with  gray  hair  and  a  frosty 
stubble  of  a  mustache.  He  wore  no  insignia  of 
office.  Indeed,  as  Maurice  gazed  from  one  man  to 
the  next  he  saw  that  there  were  no  officers;  and  it 
came  to  him  that  these  were  not  soldiers  of  the 
king.  He  was  in  a  trap.  He  thought  quickly. 
Fitzgerald  was  in  trouble,  perhaps  on  his  account. 
Where  was  he? 

"I  do  not  see  my  friend  who  sprained  his  ankle," 
he  said  coolly. 

This  declaration  was  greeted  with  laughter. 

"Evidently  I  have  entered  the  wrong  room,"  he 
continued  imperturbably.  He  stepped  toward  the 
door,  but  a  burly  individual  placed  his  back  to  it. 


THE    PUPPET     CKOWN         111 

"Am  I  a  prisoner,  or  the  victim  of  a  practical 
joke?" 

"Either  way,"  said  the  man  with  the  frosty 
mustache. 

"Why?" 

"You  have  recently  formed  a  dangerous  acquaint- 
ance, and  we  desire  to  aid  you  in  breaking  it." 

"Are  you  aware,  gentlemen — no,  I  don't  mean 
gentlemen — that  I  am  attached  to  the  American 
legation  in  Vienna,  and  that  my  person  is  invio- 
lable?" 

Everybody  laughed  again — everybody  but  Maurice. 

"Allow  me  to  correct  you,"  put  in  the  elderly 
man,  who  evidently  was  the  leader  in  the  affair. 
"You  are  not  attached;  you  are  detached.  Gentle- 
men, permit  me,  M.  Carewe,  detache  of  the  Amer- 
ican legation  in  Vienna,  who  wishes  he  had  stayed 
there." 

Maurice  saw  a  brace  of  revolvers  on  the  mantel. 
The  table  stood  between. 

"Well,"  he  said,  banteringly,  "bring  on  your 
banquet;  the  hour  is  late." 

"That's  the  way;  don't  lose  your  temper,  and 
no  harm  will  come  to  you." 

"What  do  you  wish  of  me?" 

"Merely  the  pleasure  of  your  company.  Lieu- 
tenant, bring  out  the  treasure." 

One  of  the  soldiers  entered  the  next  room  and 
soon  returned  pushing  Fitzgerald  before  him.  The 
Englishman  was  bound  and  gagged. 

"How  will  you  have  the  pheasant  served?"  asked 
the  leader. 

"Like  a  gentleman !"  cried  Maurice,  letting  out 


112         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

a  little  of  his  anger.  "Take  out  the  gag;  he  will 
not  cry." 

The  leader  nodded,  and  Fitzgerald's  mouth  was 
relieved.  He  spat  some  blood  on  the  carpet,  then 
looked  at  his  captors,  the  devil  in  his  eyes. 

"Proceed  to  kill  me  and  have  done,"  he  said- 

"Kill  you?     No,  no!" 

"I  advise  you  to,  for  if  you  do  not  kill  me,  some 
day  I  shall  be  free  again,  and  then  God  help  some 
of  you." 

Maurice  gazed  at  the  candles  on  the  table,  and 
smiled. 

"I'm  sorry  they  dragged  you  into  it,  Maurice," 
said  Fitzgerald. 

"I'm  glad  they  did.  What  you  want  is  com- 
pany." There  was  a  glance,  swift  as  light.  It 
went  to  the  mantel,  then  passed  to  the  captive. 
"Well,"  said  Maurice,  "what  is  next  on  your 
damned  program?" 

"The  other  side  of  the  frontier." 

"Maybe,"  said  Maurice. 

With  an  unexpected  movement  he  sent  the  table 
over,  the  lights  went  out;  and  he  had  judged  the 
distance  so  accurately  that  he  felt  his  hands  close 
over  the  revolvers. 

"The  door!  the  door!"  a  voice  bawled.  "Knock 
down  any  one  who  attempts  to  pass." 

This  was  precisely  what  Maurice  desired.  With 
the  soldiers  massed  about  the  door,  he  would  be 
free  to  liberate  Fitzgerald;  which  he  did.  He  had 
scarcely  completed  the  task,  when  a  flame  spurted 
up.  The  leader  fearlessly  lit  a  candle  and  righted 
the  table.  He  saw  both  his  prisoners,  one  of  them 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         113 

with  extended  arms,  at  the  ends  of  which  glistened 
revolver  barrels. 

"The  devil!"  he  said. 

"Maybe  it  is/'  replied  Maurice.  "Now,  my  gay 
banqueteers,  open  the  door;  and  the  first  man  who 
makes  a  suspicious  movement  will  find  that  I'm  a 
tolerable  shot." 

"Seize  him,  your  Excellency !"  shouted  one  of  the 
troopers.  "Those  are  my  revolvers  he  has,  and 
they  are  not  loaded." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   RED   CHATEAU 

Two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  on  the  king's  high- 
way, and  a  small  body  of  horse  making  progress. 
The  moon  was  beginning  to  roll  away  toward  the 
west,  but  the  world  was  still  frost-white,  and  the 
broad  road  stretched  out  like  a  silver  ribbon  be- 
fore the  horsemen,  until  it  was  lost  in  the  blue 
mist  of  the  forests. 

The  troop  consisted  of  ten  men,  two  of  whom 
rode  with  their  hands  tied  behind  their  backs  and 
their  feet  fastened  under  the  bellies  of  the  horses. 
The  troop  was  not  conspicuous  for  this  alone. 
Three  others  had  their  heads  done  up  in  handker- 
chiefs, and  a  fourth  carried  his  arm  in  a  sling. 

Five  miles  to  the  rear  lay  the  sleeping  city  of 
Bleiberg,  twenty  miles  beyond  rose  the  formidable 
heights  of  the  Thalians.  At  times  the  horses  went 
forward  at  a  gallop,  but  more  often  they  walked; 
when  they  galloped  the  man  with  his  arm  in  the 
sling  complained.  Whenever  the  horses  dropped 
into  a  walk,  the  leader  talked  to  one  of  the  pris- 
oners. 

"You  fight  like  the  very  devil,  my  friend,"  he 
said;  "but  we  were  too  many  by  six.  Mind,  I 
114 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         115 

think  none  the  less  of  you  for  your  .attempt;  free- 
dom is  always  worth  fighting  for.  As  I  said  be- 
fore, no  harm  is  meant  to  you,  physically;  as  to 
the  moral  side,  that  doesn't  concern  me.  You  have 
disabled  four  of  my  men,  and  have  scarcely  a  dozen 
scratches  to  show  for  it.  I  wanted  to  take  only 
four  men  with  me;  I  was  ordered  to  take  eight. 
The  hand  of  providence  is  in  it." 

''You  wouldn't  be  so  polite,  Colonel,"  spoke  up 
the  trooper  whose  arm  was  in  the  sling,  "if  you 
had  got  this  crack." 

"Baron,  who  told  you  to  call  me  Colonel?"  the 
leader  demanded. 

"Why,  we  are  out  of  the  city;  there's  no  harm 
now  that  I  can  see." 

"Is  it  possible,"  said  Maurice  ironically,  "that  I 
have  had  the  honor  of  hitting  a  baron  on  the 
head  and  breaking  his  arm?" 

The  baron  muttered  a  curse  and  fell  back. 

"And  you,"  went  on  Maurice,  addressing  the 
leader,  "are  a  Colonel?" 

"Yes." 

"For  the  duchess?" 

"For  the  duchess." 

"A  black  business  for  you,  Colonel;  take  my 
word  for  it." 

"A  black  business  it  is;  but  orders  are  orders 
Have  you  ever  been  a  soldier?" 

"I  have." 

"Well,  there's  nothing  more  to  be  said." 

"America —  '  Maurice  began. 

"Is  several  thousand  miles  away." 

"Not  if  you  reckon  from  Vienna." 


116         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

"I'd  rather  not  reckon,  if  it's  all  the  same  to 
you.  Your  friend — I  might  say,  your  very  valu- 
able friend — takes  the  matter  too  much  to  heart" 

"He's  not  a  talkative  man." 

Fitzgerald  looked  straight  ahead,  stern  and  im- 
passive. 

"But  now  that  we  are  talking,"  said  Maurice, 
"I  should  like  to  know  how  the  deuce  you  got 
hold  of  my  name  and  dragged  me  into  this  affair?" 

"Simple  enough.  A  card  of  yours  was  given  to 
me;  on  it  was  your  name  and  address.  The  rest 
was  easy." 

Maurice  grew  limp  in  the  saddle. 

"By  George !  I  had  forgotten !  The  woman  is 
at  the  bottom  of  it." 

"Quite  likely.  I  thought  you'd  come  to  that 
conclusion.  Sometimes  when  we  play  with  foxes 
they  lead  us  into  bear  traps.  Young  man,  witness 
these  gray  hairs;  never  speak  to  strange  women, 
especially  when  they  wear  veils." 

Fitzgerald  was  now  attending  the  conversation. 

"And  who  is  this  woman?"  asked  Maurice. 

"Mademoiselle  of  the  Veil,  according  to  your 
picturesque  imagination;  to  me  she  is  the  inti- 
mate friend  and  adviser  of  her  Highness  Stephonia." 
He  wheeled  to  the  troopers  with  a  laugh:  "Hoch, 
you  beggars,  hoch!" 

Maurice  indulged  in  some  uncomplimentary  re- 
marks, among  which  was:  "I'm  an  ass!" 

"Every  man  improves  on  making  that  discovery; 
the  Darwinian  theory  is  wrong." 

After  a  pause  Maurice  said:  "How  did  you  get 
on  the  ground  so  quickly?" 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         117 

"We  arrived  yesterday  afternoon  as  the  escort 
of  your  charmer.  A  pretty  woman  finds  it  trouble- 
some to  travel  alone  in  these  parts.  When  you 
slapped  your  friend  on  the  back  and  bawled  out 
his  name — a  name  known  from  one  end  of  the 
kingdom  to  the  other — the  plan  of  action  was  im- 
mediately formed.  You  were  necessary,  for  it  was 
taken  for  granted  that  you  knew  too  much.  You 
had  also  promised  your  sword,"  with  a  chuckle. 

"I  made  no  promise,"  said  Maurice.  "I  only 
said  that  I  should  easily  be  found  when  wanted." 

"Well,  so  you  were;  there's  no  gainsaying  that." 

Maurice  said  some  more  uncomplimentary  things. 

"It  was  neatly  done,  you  will  admit.  Life  is 
a  game  of  cards;  he  wins  who  plays  first." 

"Or  he  doesn't.  Colonel,  a  game  is  won  only 
when  it  is  played." 

"That's  true  enough." 

"Kings  are  a  tolerable  bother  on  earth,"  Maurice 
declared,  trying  to  ease  his  wrists  by  holding  them 
higher  against  his  back. 

"What  do  you  know  about  them?" 

"When  I  was  in  the  army  I  often  fell  in  with 
three  or  four  of  a  night." 

"Eh?— kings?" 

"Yes;  but  usually  I  was  up  against  aces  or 
straight  flushes." 

"Cards!  Well,  well;  when  you  get  down  to  the 
truth  of  the  matter,  real  kings  differ  but  little 
from  the  kings  in  pasteboard;  right  side  up,  or 
wrong  side  up,  they  serve  the  purpose  of  those  wh  > 
play  them.  There's  a  poor,  harmless  devil  bncJ 
there,"  with  a  nod  toward  Bleiberg.  "He  m 


118         THE    PUPPET     CROWX 

injured  a  soul.  Perhaps  that's  it;  had  he  been 
cruel,  avaricious,  sly,  all  of  them  would  be  cring- 
ing at  his  feet.  Devil  take  me — but  I'm  a  soldier," 
he  broke  off  abruptly;  "it's  none  of  my  business." 

"Have  you  any  titles?"  Maurice  asked  presently. 

"Titles?"  The  Colonel  jerked  around  on  his 
horse.  "Why?" 

"0,"  said  Maurice  carelessly,  "I  thought  it  not 
unlikely  that  you  might  have  a  few  lying  around 
loose." 

The  Colonel  roared.  "You  Americans  beat  the 
very  devil  with  your  questions.  Well,  I  am  politely 
known  as  Count  Mollendorf,  if  that  will  gratify 
you." 

"What!  brother  of  Mollendorf  of  the  king's 
police  ?" 

"God  save  the  mark!  No;  I  am  an  honest  man 
— some  of  the  time." 

Maurice  laughed;  the  old  fellow  was  amusing, 
and  besides,  this  conversation  helped  to  pass  away 
the  time. 

"Wake  up,  Jack;  here's  entertainment,"  he  said. 

A  scowl  added  itself  to  the  stern  expression  on 
Fitzgerald's  face. 

"I  trust  that  none  of  your  teeth  are  loose,"  ven- 
tured the  Colonel. 

"If  they  are,  they'll  be  tight  enough  ere  many 
days  have  passed,"  was  the  threatening  reply. 

"Beware  the  dog!"  cried  the  Colonel,  and  he  re- 
sumed his  place  at  the  head  of  the  little  troop. 

Maurice  took  this  opportunity  to  bend  toward 
Fitzgerald.  "Have  you  anything  of  importance 
about  you?"  he  whispered  significantly. 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         119 

"Nothing.  But  God  send  that  no  chambermaid 
change  the  sheet  in  my  bed  at  the  hotel." 

"Are  they—" 

"Silence."  Fitzgerald  saw  the  trooper  next  with 
his  hand  to  his  ear. 

After  a  time  the  Colonel  sang  out:  "Fifteen 
miles  more,  with  three  on  the  other  side,  men;  we 
must  put  more  life  into  us.  A  trot  for  a  few 
miles.  The  quicker  the  ride  is  done,  baron,  the 
quicker  the  surgeon  will  look  to  your  arm." 

And  silence  fell  upon  the  troop.  Occasionally 
a  stray  horse  in  the  fields  whinneyed,  and  was  an- 
swered from  the  road;  sometimes  the  howl  of  a 
dog  broke  the  monotony.  On  and  on  they  rode; 
hour  and  mile  were  left  behind  them.  The  moon 
fell  lower  and  lower,  and  the  mountains  rose 
higher  and  higher,  and  the  wind  which  had  risen 
had  a  frosty  sting  to  it.  Maurice  now  began  to 
show  the  true  state  of  his  temper  by  cursing  his 
horse  whenever  it  rubbed  against  one  of  its  fel- 
lows. His  back  was  lame,  and  there  was  a  dull 
pain  in  one  of  his  shoulders.  When  he  had  made 
the  rush  for  the  door,  clubbing  right  and  left  with 
the  empty  revolvers,  he  had  finally  been  thrown 
on  an  overturned  chair. 

"Here,  hang  you !"  he  said  to  the  trooper  who 
held  the  bridle  of  his  horse,  "I'm  cold;  you  might 
at  least  turn  up  my  collar  about  my  throat." 

"You  are  welcome  to  my  cloak,"  said  the 
trooper,  disengaging  that  article  from  his  shoul- 
ders. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Maurice,  somewhat  abashed 
by  the  respectful  tone. 


120 


The  trooper  offered  his  blanket  to  Fitzgerald. 

"I  wish  no  favors,"  said  the  Englishman,  thank- 
lessly. 

The  trooper  shrugged,  and  caught  up  Maurice's 
bridle. 

At  length  the  troop  arrived  at  the  frontier. 
There  was  no  sign  of  life  at  the  barrack.  They 
passed  unchallenged. 

"What  I"  exclaimed  Maurice,  "do  they  sleep  here 
at  night,  then?  A  fine  frontier  barrack."  He  had 
lived  in  hopes  of  more  disturbance  and  a  possible 
chance  for  liberty. 

"They  will  wake  up  to-day,"  answered  the 
Colonel;  "that  is,  if  the  wine  we  gave  them  was 
not  too  strong.  Poor  devils;  they  must  be  good 
and  cold  by  this  time,  since  we  have  their  clothes. 
What  do  you  think  of  a  king  whose  soldiers  drink 
with  any  strangers  who  chance  along?" 

Maurice  became  resigned.  To  him  the  present 
dynasty  was  as  fragile  as  glass,  and  it  needed  but 
one  strong  blow  to  shatter  it  into  atoms.  And  the 
one  hope  rode  at  his  side,  sullen  and  wrathful,  but 
impotent;  the  one  hope  the  king  had  to  save  his 
throne.  Hs  had  come  to  Bleiberg  in  search  of  ex- 
citement, but  this  was  altogether  more  than  he 
had  bargained  for. 

The  horses  began  to  lift  and  were  soon  wind- 
ing in  and  out  of  the  narrow  mountain  pass.  Th*> 
chill  of  the  overhanging  snows  fell  upon  them. 

"It  wouldn't  have  hurt  you  to  accept  the 
blanket,"  said  Maurice  to  Fitzgerald. 

"Curse  it !  I  want  nothing  but  two  minutes' 
freedom.  It  would  be  warm  enough  then." 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         121 

"No  confidences,  gentlemen,"  warned  the  Colonel ; 
"I  understand  English  tolerably  well." 

"Go  to  the  devil,  then,  if  you  do!"  said  Fitz- 
gerald discourteously. 

"When  the  time  comes,"  tranquilly.  "Of  the 
two  I  like  your  friend  the  better.  To  be  resigned 
to  the  inevitable  is  a  sign  of  good  mental  balance." 

"I  am  not  used  to  words,"  replied  the  English- 
man. 

"You  are  used  to  orders.  I  am  simply  obeying 
mine.  If  I  took  you  off  your  guard  it  was  because 
I  had  to,  and  not  because  I  liked  that  method 
best.  Look  alive,  men;  it's  down  hill  from  now 
on." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  troop  arrived  at 
the  duchy's  frontier  post.  There  was  no  sleep 
here.  The  Colonel  flung  himself  from  his  horse 
and  exercised  his  legs. 

"Sergeant,"  he  said,  "how  far  behind  the  others?" 

"They  passed  two  hours  ago,  Excellency.  And 
all  is  well?"  deferentially. 

"All  is  indeed  well,"  with  a  gesture  toward  the 
prisoners. 

"I've  a  flask  of  brandy  in  my  hip  pocket,"  said 
Maurice.  "Will  you  help  me  to  a  nip,  Colonel?" 

"Pardon  me,  gentlemen;  I  had  forgotten  that 
your  hands  were  still  in  cords.  Corporal,"  to  a 
trooper,  "relieve  their  hands." 

The  prisoners  rubbed  their  wrists  and  hands, 
which  were  numb  and  cold.  Maurice  produced  his 
flask. 

"I  was  bringing  it  along  for  your  sprained 
ankle,"  he  said,  as  he  extended  the  flask  to  Fitz- 


122         THE     PUPPET     CROW^ 

gerald,  who  drank  a  third  of  it.  "I'd  offer  you 
some,  Colonel,  only  it  would  be  like  heaping  coals 
of  fire  on  your  head;  and,  besides,  I  want  it  all 
myself."  He  returned  the  emptied  flask  to  his 
pocket,  feeling  a  moderate  warmth  inside. 

"Drink  away,  my  son/'  said  the  Colonel,  climb- 
ing into  the  saddle;  "there'll  be  plenty  for  me  for 
this  night's  work.  Forward !" 

The  troop  took  up  the  march  again,  through 
a  splendid  forest  kept  clear  of  dead  wood  by  the 
peasants.  It  abounded  with  game.  The  shrill  cry 
of  the  pheasants,  the  rustle  of  the  partridges  in 
the  underbrush,  the  bark  of  the  fox,  all  rose  to 
the  ears  of  the  trespassers.  The  smell  of  warm 
earth  permeated  the  air,  and  the  sky  was  merging 
from  silver  into  gold. 

When  ISTapoleon  humiliated  Austria  for  the  sec- 
ond time,  one  of  his  mushroom  nobles,  who  placed 
too  much  faith  in  the  man  of  destiny,  selected 
this  wooded  paradise  as  a  residence.  He  built  him 
a  fine  castle  of  red  brick,  full  of  wide  halls  and 
drawing  rooms  and  chambers  of  state,  and  filled 
it  with  fabulous  paintings,  Gobelin  tapestries,  and 
black  walnut  wainscot.  He  kept  a  small  garrison 
of  French  soldiers  by  converting  the  huge  stables 
partly  into  a  barrack.  One  night  the  peasantry 
rose.  There  was  a  conflict,  as  the  walls  still  show; 
and  the  prince  by  patent  fled,  no  one  knew  where. 
After  its  baptism  in  blood  it  became  known  far 
and  wide  as  the  Red  Chateau.  Whenever  children 
were  unruly,  they  were  made  docile  by  threats  of 
the  dark  dungeons  of  the  Red  Chateau,  or  the  ghosts 
of  the  French  and  German  peasants  who  died 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         123 

there.  As  it  now  stood,  it  was  one  of  the  summer 
residences  of  her  Highness. 

It  was  here  that  the  long  night's  journey  came 
to  an  end. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  Colonel,  dismounting, 
"permit  me,  in  the  name  of  her  Highness,  to  offer 
you  the  hospitality  of  Red  Chateau.  Consider;  will 
you  lighten  my  task  by  giving  me  your  word  of 
honor  to  make  no  attempt  to  escape?  Escape  is 
possible,  but  not  probable.  There  are  twenty  fresh 
men  and  horses  in  the  stables.  Come,  be  reason- 
able. It  will  be  pleasanter  on  both  sides." 

"So  far  as  I'm  concerned,"  said  Maurice,  who 
needed  liberty  not  half  so  much  as  sleep,  "I  pass 
my  word." 

"And  you,  sir?"  to  Fitzgerald. 

Fitzgerald  gazed  about  him.  "Very  well,"  he 
said,  as  he  saw  the  futility  of  a  struggle. 

"Your  humble  servant,  Messieurs,"  touching  his 
cap.  "Take  the  ropes  off  their  ankles,  men." 

When  Maurice  was  lifted  from  his  horse  and 
placed  on  the  ground,  his  legs  suddenly  bent  under 
him,  and  he  went  sprawling  to  the  grass.  A 
trooper  sprang  to  his  assistance. 

"My  legs  have  gone  to  sleep !" 

The  Englishman  was  affected  likewise,  and  it 
WMS  some  moments  before  either  could  walk.  They 
were  conducted  to  a  chamber  high  up  in  the  left 
wing,  which  overlooked  the  forest  and  the  moun- 
tain?. It  was  a  large  airy  room,  but  the  windows 
were  barred  and  there  were  double  locks  on  the 
doors.  The  Colonel  followed  them  into  the  room 
and  pointed  to  the  table. 


124         THE    PUPPET     CROWN" 

"Breakfast,  Messieurs,  and  a  good  sleep  for  you 
till  this  noon.  As  for  the  rest,  let  that  take  care 
of  itself.''  And  he  left  them. 

Maurice,  after  having  tried  all  the  bars  and 
locks  in  answer  to  his  conscience,  gave  his  atten- 
tion to  the  breakfast.  On  lifting  the  covers  he 
found  fish,  eggs,  toast  and  coffee. 

"Here's  luck !"  he  cried.     "We  were  expected." 

"Curse  it,  Maurice !"  Fitzgerald  began  pacing 
the  robin. 

"Xo,  no,"  said  Maurice;  "let  us  eat  it;  that's 
what  it's  here  for,"  and  he  fell  to  with  that  vigor 
known  only  to  healthy  blood. 

"But  what's  to  be  done?" 

"Follow   Solomon's  advice,  and  wait." 

"You're  taking  it  cursed  cool." 

"Force  of  habit,"  breaking  the  toast.  "What's 
the  use  of  wasting  powder?  Because  I  have  shown 
only  the  exterior,  our  friend  the  Colonel  has  al- 
ready formed  an  opinion  of  me.  I  am  brave  if 
need  be,  but  young  and  careless.  In  a  day  or  so 
— for  I  suppose  we  are  not  to  be  liberated  at  once — 
he'll  forget  to  use  proper  caution  in  respect  to  me. 
And  then,  'who  can  say?'  as  the  Portuguese  says 
when  he  hasn't  anything  else  to  say.  They'll  keep 
a  strict  watch  over  you,  my  friend,  because  you've 
played  the  lion  too  much.  Just  before  I  left  the 
States,  as  you  call  them,  a  new  slang  phrase  was 
going  the  rounds; — 'it  is  better  to  play  the  fox 
some  of  the  time  than  to  roar  all  of  the  time.' 
Ergo,  be  foxy.  Take  it  cool.  So  long  as  you 
haven't  got  that  mint  packed  about  your  person, 
the  game  breaks  even." 

"But  the  king!" 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         125 

"Is  as  secure  on  his  throne  as  he  ever  was.  If 
you  do  not  present  those  consols,  either  for  renewal 
or  collection,  on  the  twentieth,  he  loses  nothing. 
As  you  said,  let  us  hope  that  the  chambermaid  is 
a  shifty,  careless  lass,  who  will  not  touch  your 
room  till  you  return."  Maurice  broke  an  egg  and 
dropped  a  lump  of  sugar  into  his  cup. 

"Is  this  the  way  you  fight  Indians?" 

"Indians?  What  the  deuce  has  fighting  Indians 
to  do  with  this?  As  to  Indians,  shoot  them  in  the 
back  if  you  can.  Here,  everything  depends  not  on 
fighting  but  the  right  use  of  words.  A  man  may 
be  a  diplomat  and  not  render  his  country  any 
large  benefit;  still,  it's  a  fine  individual  training. 
Thrones  stand  on  precipices  and  are  pushed  back 
to  safety  by.  the  trick  of  a  few  words.  Have  an 
egg;  they're  fresh." 

Fitzgerald  sat  down  and  gulped  his  coffee. 
"They  broke  my  monocle  in  the  struggle." 

Maurice  choked  in  his  cup. 

"I've  worn  it  twelve  years,  too,"  went  on  Fitz- 
gerald. 

"Everything  is  for  the  best,"  said  Maurice.  "You 
will  be  able  to  see  out  of  both  eyes." 

"Confound  you !"  cried  Fitzgerald,  smiling  in 
spite  of  himself;  "nothing  will  disturb  you." 

"You  mean,  nothing  shall.  Now,  there's  the 
bed  and  there's  the  lounge.  Since  you  are  the 
principal,  that  is  to  say,  the  constituent  part  of 
this  affair,  and  also  the  principal  actor  in  this  ex- 
travaganza, suppose  you  take  the  bed  and  leave 
me  the  lounge?  And  the  deuce  take  the  duchess, 
who  is  probably  a  woman  with  a  high  forehead 


126         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

and  a  pair  of  narrow  eyes  !'*  He  threw  down  his 
napkin  and  made  for  the  lounge,  without  giving 
any  particular  attention  to  the  smile  and  frown 
which  were  struggling  in  the  Englishman's  eyes. 
In  less  than  a  minute  Maurice  was  dozing. 

Fitzgerald  thought  that  the  best  thing  he  could 
do  was  to  follow  the  philosophical  example  of  his 
friend.  "These  Americans,"  he  mused,  as  he  ar- 
ranged the  pillow  under  his  ear,  "are  'fifteen  puz- 
zles'; you  can  move  them,  or  you  can't." 

As  for  Maurice,  he  was  already  dreaming;  he 
was  too  tired  to  sleep.  Presently  he  thought  he 
was  on  a  horse  again,  and  was  galloping,  gallop- 
ing. He  was  heading  his  old  company  to  the  very 
fringe  of  the  alkali.  The  Apaches  had  robbed  the 
pay  train  and  killed  six  men,  and  the  very  deuce 
was  to  pay  all  around.  .  .  .  Again  he  was 
swimming,  and  a  beautiful  girl  reached  out  a 
hand  and  saved  him.  Ah !  how  beautiful  she  was, 
how  soft  and  rich  the  deep  brown  of  her  eyes ! 
.  .  .  The  scene  shifted.  The  president  of  the 
South  American  republic  had  accepted  his  sword 
(unbeknown  to  the  United  States  authorities),  and 
he  was  aiding  to  quell  the  insurrection.  And  just 
then  some  one  whispered  to  him  that  gold  would 
rise  fifty  points.  And  as  he  put  out  his  hands  to 
gather  in  the  glittering  coins  which  were  raining 
down,  the  face  of  Colonel  Beauvais  loomed  up, 
scowling  and  furious.  .  .  .  And  yet  again  came 
the  beautiful  girl.  He  was  holding  her  hand  and 
the  archbishop  had  his  spread  out  in  benediction 
over  their  heads.  ...  A  hand,  which  was  not 
of  dreamland,  shook  him  by  the  arm.  He  opened 


THE     PUPPET     CEOWN         127 

his  eyes.  Fitzgerald  was  standing  over  him.  The 
light  of  the  sun  spangled  the  walls  opposite  the 
windows.  The  clock  marked  the  eleventh  hour  of 
day. 

"Hang  you !"  he  said,  with  blinking  eyes ;  "why 
didn't  you  let  me  be?  I  was  just  marrying  the 
princess,  and  you've  spoiled  it  all.  I — "  He 
jumped  to  his  feet  and  rubbed  his  eyes,  and,  for- 
getful of  all  save  his  astonishment,  pursed  his  lips 
into  a  low  whistle. 


CHAPTER  IX 

NOTHING   MORE    SERIOUS   THAN    A   HOUSE    PARTY 

Standing  just  within  'the  door,  smiling  and  rub- 
bing the  gray  bristles  on  his  lip,  was  the  Colonel. 
In  the  center  of  the  room  stood  a  woman  dressed 
in  gray.  Maurice  recognized  the  dress;  it  belonged 
to  Mademoiselle  of  the  Veil,  who  was  now  sans 
veil,  sans  hat.  A  marvelous  face  was  revealed  to 
Maurice,  a  face  of  that  peculiar  beauty  which 
poets  and  artists  are  often  minded  to  den}-,  but 
for  the  love  of  which  men  die,  become  great  or 
terrible,  overturn  empires  and  change  the  map  of 
the  world. 

Her  luxuriant  hair,  which  lay  in  careless  masses 
about  the  shapely  head  and  intelligent  brow,  was 
a  mixture  of  red  and  brown  and  gold,  a  variety 
which  never  ceases  to  charm;  skin  the  pallor  of 
ancient  marble,  with  the  shadow  of  rose  lying 
below  the  eyes,  the  large,  gray  chatoyant  eyes, 
which  answered  every  impulse  of  the  brain  which 
ruled  them.  The  irregularity  of  her  features  was 
never  noticeable  after  a  glance  into  those  eyes.  At 
this  moment  both  eyes  and  lips  expressed  a  shade 
of  amusement. 

Maurice,  who  was  astonished  never  more  than 
128 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         129 

a  minute  at  a  time,  immediately  recovered.  His 
toilet  was  somewhat  disarranged,  and  the  back  of 
his  head  a  crow's  nest,  but,  nevertheless,  he  placed 
a  hand  over  his  heart  and  offered  a  low  obeisance. 

"Good  morning,  gentlemen,"  she  said,  in  a  voice 
which  Maurice  would  have  known  anywhere.  "I 
hope  the  journey  has  caused  you  no  particular  an- 
noyance." 

"The  annoyance  was  not  so  particular,  Madame/' 
said  Fitzgerald  stiffly,  "as  it  was  general." 

"And  four  of  my  troopers  will  take  oath  to 
that!"  interjected  the  Colonel. 

"Will  Madame  permit  me  to  ask  when  will  the 
opera  begin?"  asked  Maurice. 

"I  am  glad,"  said  she,  "that  you  have  lost  none 
of  your  freshness." 

Maurice  was  struck  for  a  moment,  but  soon  saw 
that  the  remark  was  innocent  of  any  inelegance 
of  speech.  Fitzgerald  was  gnawing  his  mustache 
and  looking  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eyes — into 
hers. 

"My  task,  I  confess,  is  a  most  disagreeable  one," 
she  resumed,  lightly  beating  her  gauntlets  to- 
gether; "but  when  one  serves  high  personages  one 
is  supposed  not  to  have  any  sentiments."  To 
Fitzgerald  she  said:  "You  are  the  son  of  the 
late  Lord  Fitzgerald." 

"For  your  sake,  I  regret  to  say  that  I  am." 

"For  my  sake?  Worry  yourself  none  on  that 
point.  As  the  agent  of  her  Highness  I  am  incon- 
siderable." 

"Madame,"   said   Maurice,   "will  you   do  us  the 


130         THE    PUPPET     C  17  0  W  X 

honor  to  inform  us  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for 
this  partiality  to  our  distinguished  persons?" 

"I  am  Sylvia  Amerbach/'  quietly. 

"Amerbach?"  said  Maurice,  who  was  familiar 
with  the  great  names  of  the  continent.  "Pardon 
me,  but  that  was  once  a  famous  name  in  Prussia." 

"I  am  distantly  related  to  that  house  of  princes," 
looking  at  her  gauntlets. 

"Well,  Madame,  since  your  business  doubtless 
concerns  me,  pray,  begin;"  and  Fitzgerald  leaned 
against  the  mantelpiece  and  fumbled  with  the  rim 
of  his  monocle. 

Maurice  walked  to  one  of  the  windows  and 
perched  himself  on  the  broad  sill.  He  began  to 
whistle  softly: 

Void  le  sabre  de  mon  p&re! 

Tu  ras  le  mettre  d,  ton  cdte.     .     .     . 

Beyond  the  window,  at  the  edge  of  the  forest, 
he  saw  a  sentinel  pacing  backward  and  forward. 
Indeed,  no  matter  which  way  he  looked,  the  au- 
tumnal scenery  had  this  accessory.  Again,  he  in- 
spected the  bars.  These  were  comparatively  new. 
It  was  about  thirty  feet  to  the  court  below.  On  the 
whole,  the  outlook  was  discouraging. 

"Count,"  said  the  distant  relative  of  the  house 
of  Amerbach,  "how  shall  I  begin?" 

"I  am  not  a  diplomat,  Madame,"  answered  tho 
Colonel.  "If,  however,  you  wish  the  advice  of  a 
soldier,  I  should  begin  by  asking  if  my  lord  the 
Englishman  has  those  consols  about  his  person." 

"Fie,  count!"  she  cried,  laughing;  "one  would 
say  that  was  a  prelude  to  robbery." 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWN         131 

"So  they  would.  As  for  myself,  I  prefer  vio- 
lence to  words.  If  we  take  these  pretty  papers  by 
violence,  we  shall  still  have  left  our  friend  the 
Englishman  his  self-respect.  And  as  for  words, 
while  my  acquaintance  with  our  friend  is  slight,  I 
should  say  that  they  would  only  be  wasted  here." 

The  whistle  from  the  window  still  rose  and 
fell. 

"Monsieur,  I  have  it  in  my  power  to  make  you 
rich." 

"I  am  rich,"  replied  Fitzgerald. 

"In  honors?" 

''Madame,  the  title  I  have  is  already  a  burden 
to  me."  Fitzgerald  laughed,  which  announced 
that  the  cause  of  the  duchess  was  not  getting  on 
very  well.  Once  or  twice  he  raised  the  tortoise- 
shell  rim  to  his  eye,  but  dropped  it;  force  of  habit 
was  difficult  to  overcome. 

"Your  father  nourished  a  particular  rancor 
against  the  late  duke." 

"And  justly,  you  will  admit." 

"Her  Highness  has  offered  you  five  millions  for 
slips  of  paper  worth  no  more  than  the  ink  which 
decorates  them." 

"And  I  have  refused.  Why?  Simply  because 
the  matter  does  not  rest  with  me.  You  have  pro- 
ceeded with  a  high  hand,  Madame,  or  rather  your 
duchess  has.  Nothing  will  come  of  it.  Had  there 
been  any  possibility  of  my  considering  your  pro- 
posals, this  kidnaping  would  have  destroyed  it." 

She  smiled.  Maurice  saw  the  smile  and  stopped 
whistling  long  enough  to  scratch  his  chin,  which 
was  somewhat  in  need  of  a  razor.  He  had  seen 


132         THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

many  women  smile  that  way.  He  had  learned  to 
read  it.  It  was  an  inarticulate  "perhaps." 

"The  rightful  successor  to  the  throne — " 

"Is  Madame  the  duchess,"  Fitzgerald  completed. 
"I  haven't  the  slightest  doubt  of  that.  One  way 
or  the  other,  it  does  not  concern  me.  I  came  here 
simply  to  fulfill  the  wishes  of  my  father;  and  my 
word,  Madame,  fulfill  them  I  shall.  You  are  hold- 
ing me  a  prisoner,  but  uselessly.  On  the  twentieth 
the  certificates  fall  due  against  the  government. 
If  they  are  not  presented  either  for  renewal  or 
collection,  the  bankruptcy  scheme  of  your  duchess 
will  fall  through  just  the  same.  I  will  tell  you 
the  truth,  Madame.  My  father  never  expected  to 
collect  the  moneys  so  long  as  Leopold  sat  on  the 
throne." 

The  whistle  grew  shrill. 

"This  officer  here,"  continued  Fitzgerald,  while 
the  Colonel  made  a  comical  grimace,  "suggests  vio- 
lence. I  shall  save  him  the  trouble.  I  have  seen 
much  of  the  world,  Madame — the  hard  side  of  it 
— and,  knowing  it  as  I  do,  it  is  scarcely  probable 
that  I  should  carry  about  my  person  the  equiva- 
lent of  four  millions  of  crowns." 

"Well,  Madame,"  said  the  Colonel,  pushing  his 
belt  closer  about  his  hips,  as  a  soldier  always  does 
when  he  is  on  the  point  of  departure,  "what  he 
says  is  true,  every  word  of  it.  I  see  nothing  more 
to  do  at  present." 

Mademoiselle  of  the  Veil  was  paying  not  so 
much  attention  to  the  Colonel's  words  as  she  was  to 
Maurice's  whistle. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWV         133 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,  coldly,  "have  you  no  other 
tune  in  your  repertory?" 

"Pardon  me  I"  exclaimed  Maurice.  "I  did  not 
intend  to  annoy  you."  He  stepped  down  out  of 
the  window. 

"You  do  not  annoy  me;  only  the  tune  grows 
rather  monotonous." 

"I  will  whistle  anything  you  may  suggest,"  he 
volunteered. 

She  did  not  respond  to  this  flippancy,  though 
the  pupils  of  her  gray  eyes  grew  large  with  anger. 
She  walked  the  length  of  the  room  and  back. 

"Count,  what  do  you  think  would  be  most  satis- 
factory to  her  Highness,  under  the  circumstances?" 

"I  have  yet  to  hear  of  her  Highness'  disapproval 
of  anything  you  undertake." 

"Messieurs,  your  parole  d'lionneur,  and  the  free- 
dom of  the  chateau  is  yours — within  the  sentry 
lines.  I  wish  to  make  your  recollections  of  the 
Red  Chateau  rather  pleasant  than  otherwise.  I 
shall  be  most  happy  if  you  will  honor  my  table 
with  your  presence." 

The  Colonel  coughed,  Maurice  smoothed  the  back 
of  his  head,  and  Fitzgerald  caught  up  his  monocle. 

"My  word,  Madame,"  said  Maurice,  "is  not 
worth  much,  being  that  of  a  diplomat,  but  such 
as  it  is  it  is  yours.  However,  my  clothes  are 
scarcely  presentable,"  which  was  true  enough.  Sev- 
eral buttons  were  missing,  and  the  collar  hung  by 
a  thread. 

"That  can  be  easily  remedied,"  said  she.  "There 
are  several  new  hussar  uniforms  in  the  armory." 

"0,  Madame,  and  you  will  permit  me  to  wear 


134         THE    PUPPET     CEOWN 

one  of  those  gay  uniforms  of  light  blue  and  silver 
lace?" 

The  Colonel  looked  thoughtfully  at  Maurice.  He 
was  too  much  a  banterer  himself  to  miss  the  un- 
dercurrent of  raillery.  He  eyed  Madame  dis- 
creetly; he  saw  that  she  had  accepted  merely  the 
surface  tones. 

"And  you  will  wear  one,  too,  Jack?"  said 
Maurice. 

"No,  thank  you.  I  pass  my  word,  Madame;  I 
do  not  like  confinement." 

"Well,  then,  the  count  will  shortly  return  and 
establish  you  in  better  quarters.  Let  us  suppose 
you  are  my  guests  for  a — a  fortnight.  Since  both 
of  us  are  right,  since  neither  your  cause  nor  mine 
is  wrong,  an  armistice!  Ah!  I  forgot.  The  east 
corridor  on  the  third  floor  is  forbidden  you. 
Should  you  mistake  and  go  that  way,  a  guard  will 
direct  you  properly.  Messieurs,  till  dinner!"  and 
with  a  smile  which  illumined  her  face  as  a  sudden 
burst  of  sunshine  flashes  across  a  hillside,  she 
passed  out  of  the  room,  followed  by  her  hench- 
man, who  had  not  yet  put  aside  the  thoughtful 
repose  of  his  countenance. 

"A  house  part}*,"  said  Maurice,  when  he  could 
no  longer  hear  their  footsteps.  "And  what  the 
deuce  have  they  got  so  valuable  in  the  east  cor- 
ridor on  the  third  floor?" 

"It's  small  matter  to  me,"  said  Fitzgerald  tran- 
quilly. "The  main  fact  is  that  she  has  given  up 
her  game." 

Said  Maurice,  his  face  expressing  both  pity  and 
astonishment:  "My  dear,  dear  John!  Didn't  you 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         135 

see  that  woman's  eyes,  her  hair,  her  chin,  her 
nose  ?" 

"Well?" 

"True;  you  haven't  had  any  experience  with  pet- 
ticoats. This  woman  will  rend  heaven  and  earth 
rather  than  relinquish  her  projects,  or  rather  those 
of  her  mistress.  I  should  like  to  see  this  duchess, 
who  shows  a  fine  discernment  in  the  selection  of 
her  assistants.  Beware  of  the  woman  who  is  frankly 
your  enemy.  If  she  is  frank,  it  is  because  she  is 
confident  of  the  end;  if  not,  she  is  frank  in  order 
to  disarm  us  of  the  suspicion  of  cunning.  I 
would  give  much  to  know  the  true  meaning  of 
this  house  party." 

"Hang  me  if  I  can  see  what  difference  it  makes. 
She  can  not  do  anything  either  by  frankness  or 
by  cunning." 

"She  gathered  us  in  neatly,  this  red-haired 
Amazon." 

"Red-haired !"  in  a  kind  of  protest. 

"Why,  yes;  that's  the  color,  isn't  it?"  inno- 
cently. 

"I  thought  it  a  red-brown.  It's  too  bad  that 
such  a  woman  should  be  mixed  up  in  an  affair 
like  this." 

"Woman  will  sacrifice  to  ambition  what  she 
never  will  sacrifice  to  love.  Hush;  I  hear  the 
Colonel  returning." 

They  were  conducted  to  the  opposite  wing  of 
the  chateau,  to  a  room  on  the  second  floor.  Its 
windows  afforded  an  excellent  view  of  the  land 
which  lay  south.  Hills  rolled  away  like  waves 


136         THE     PUPPET    CKOWN 

of  gold,  dotted  here  and  there  with  vineyards. 
Through  the  avenue  of  trees  they  could  see  the 
highway,  and  beyond,  the  river,  which  had  its 
source  in  the  mountains  ten  miles  eastward. 

The  room  itself  was  in  red,  evidently  a  state 
chamber,  for  it  contained  two  canopied  beds. 
Several  fine  paintings  hung  from  the  walls,  and 
between  the  two  windows  rose  one  of  those  pier 
glasses  which  owe  their  existence  to  the  first  em- 
pire of  France.  On  one  of  the  beds  Maurice  saw 
the  hussar  uniform.  On  the  dresser  were  razors 
and  mugs  and  a  pitcher  of  hot  water. 

"Ah/*  he  said,  with  satisfaction. 

"The  boots  may  not  fit  you,"  said  the  Colonel, 
'but  if  they  do  not  we  will  manage  some  way." 

"I  shall  not  mind  the  fortnight,"  said  Maurice. 
"By  the  way,  Colonel,  I  notice  that  French  seems 
to  prevail  instead  of  German.  Why  is  that?" 

"It  is  the  common  language  of  politeness,  and 
servants  do  not  understand  it.  As  for  myself,  I 
naturally  prefer  the  German  tongue;  it  is  blunt 
and  honest  and  lacks  the  finesse  of  the  French, 
which  is  full  of  evasive  words  and  meanings.  How- 
ever, French  predominates  at  court.  Besides, 
heaven  help  the  foreigner  who  tries  to  learn  all 
the  German  tongues  to  be  found  in  the  empires 
of  the  Hohenzollern  and  Hapsburg.  Luncheon  will 
be  served  to  you  in  the  dining  hall;  the  first  door 
to  the  right  at  the  foot  of  the  grand  staircase. 
I  shall  send  you  a  trooper  to  act  as  valet." 

"Spare  me,  Colonel,"  said  Maurice,  who  did  not 
want  any  one  between  him  and  the  Englishman 
when  they  were  alone. 


THE     PUPPET     CHOWN         137 

"I  have  never  had  a  valet,"  said  Fitzgerald; 
"he  would  embarrass  me/' 

"As  you  please,"  said  the  Colonel,  a  shade  of 
disappointment  in  his  tones.  "After  all,  you  are 
soldiers,  where  every  man  is  for  himself.  Make 
yourselves  at  home;"  and  he  withdrew. 

.Maurice  at  once  applied  lather  and  razor,  and 
put  on  the  handsome  uniform,  which  fitted  him 
snugly.  The  coat  was  tailless,  with  rows  of  silver 
buttons  running  from  collar  to  waist.  The  breast 
and  shoulders  and  sleeves  were  covered  with  sil- 
ver lace,  and  Maurice  concluded  that  it  must 
be  nothing  less  than  a  captain's  uniform.  The 
trousers  were  tight  fitting,  with  broad  stripes  of 
silver;  and  the  half  boots  were  of  patent  leather. 
He  walked  backward  and  forward  before  the  pier- 
glass. 

"I  say,  Fitz,  what  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"You're  a  handsome  rascal,  Maurice,"  answered 
the  Englishman,  who  had  watched  his  young 
friend,  amusement  in  his  sober  eyes.  "Happily, 
there  are  no  young  women  present." 

"Go  to!  I'll  lay  odds  that  our  hostess  is  under 
twenty-five." 

"I  meant  young  women  of  sixteen  or  seventeen. 
Women  such  as  Madame  have  long  since  passed  the 
uniform  fever." 

"N"ot  when  it  has  lace,  my  friend,  court  lace. 
Well,  forward  to  the  dining  hall." 

Both  were  rather  disappointed  to  find  that 
Madame  would  be  absent  until  dinner.  Fitzgerald 
could  not  tell  exactly  why  he  was  disappointed, 
and  he  was  angry  with  himself  for  the  vague  re- 


138         THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

gret.  Maurice,  however,  found  consolation  in  the 
demure  French  maid  who  served  them.  Every 
time  he  smiled  she  made  a  courtesy,  and  every  time 
she  left  the  room  Maurice  nudged  Fitzgerald. 

"Smile,  confound  you,  smile !"  he  whispered. 
"There's  never  a  maid  but  has  her  store  of  gossip, 
and  gossip  is  information." 

"Pshaw !"  said  Fitzgerald,  helping  himself  to 
cold  ham  and  chicken. 

"Wine,  Messieurs?"  asked  the  maid. 

"Ah,  then  Madame  offers  the  cellars?"  said 
Maurice. 

"Yes,  Messieurs.  There  is  chambertin,  cham- 
pagne, chablis,  tokayer  and  sherry." 

"Bring  us  some  chambertin,  then." 

"Oui,  Messieurs." 

"'Hurry  along,  my  Hebe,"  said  Maurice. 

The  maid  was  not  on  familiar  terms  with  the 
classics,  but  she  told  the  butler  in  the  pantry 
that  the  smooth-faced  one  made  a  charming  Cap- 
tain. 

"Keep  your  eyes  open,"  grumbled  the  butler; 
"he'll  be  kissing  you  next." 

"He  might  do  worse,"  was  the  retort.  Even 
maids  have  their  mirrors,  and  hers  told  a  pretty 
story.  When  she  returned  with  the  wine  she 
asked:  "And  shall  I  ]i<wr  it,  Messieurs?" 

"No  one  else  shall/'  declared  Maurice.  "When 
is  the  duchess  to  arrive?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Monsieur,"  stepping  in  between 
the  chairs  and  filling  the  glasses  with  the  ruby 
liquid. 

"Who  is  Madame  Sylvia  Amerbach?" 

"Madame   Sylvia  Amerbach,"  placing  the  bottle 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         139 

on  the  table  and  going  to  the  sideboard.  She  re- 
turned with  a  box  of  "Khedives." 

Fitzgerald  laughed  at  Maurice's  disconcertion. 

"Where  has  Madame  gone?" 

"To  the  summer  home  of  Countess  Herzberg, 
who  is  to  return  with  Madame." 

"Oho  !"  cried  Maurice,  in  English.  "A  countess  ! 
What  do  you  say  to  that,  my  Englishman?" 

"She  is  probably  old  and  plain.  Madame  de- 
sires a  chaperon." 

"You  forget  that  Madame  desires  nothing  but 
those  certificates.  And  the  chaperon  does  not  live 
who  could  keep  an  eye  on  Madame  Sylvia  Amer- 
bach." 

The  mention  of  the  certificates  brought  back  all 
the  Englishman's  discomfort,  and  he  emptied  his 
glass  of  wine  not  as  a  lover  of  good  wine  should. 
Soon  they  rose  from  the  table.  The  maid  ran  to 
the  door  and  held  it  open.  Fitzgerald  hurried 
through,  but  Maurice  lingered  a  moment.  He  put 
his  hand  under  the  porcelain  chin  and  looked  into 
the  china-blue  eyes.  Fitzgerald  turned. 

"What  was  that  noise?"  he  asked,  as  Maurice 
shouldered  him  along  the  hall. 

"What  noise?" 


Madame  came  back  to  the  chateau  at  five,  and 
dinner  was  announced  at  eight.  The  Countess  Her/- 
berg was  young  and  pretty,  the  possessor  of  ;i 
beautiful  mouth  and  a  charming  smile.  The 
Colonel  did  the  honors  at  the  table.  Maurice  al- 
most fancied  himself  in  Vienna,  the  setting  of  the 
dining  room  was  so  perfect.  The  entire  room  was 


140         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

paneled  in  walnut.  On  the  mantel  over  the  great 
fireplace  stood  silver  candlesticks  with  wax  tapers. 
The  candlestick  in  the  center  of  the  table  was 
composed  of  twelve  branches.  The  cuisine  was  de- 
lectable, the  wines  delicious.  Madame  and  the 
countess  were  in  evening  dress.  The  Colonel  was 
brimming  with  anecdote,  the  countess  was  witty, 
Madame  was  a  sister  to  Aspasia. 

Maurice,  while  he  enjoyed  this  strange  feast,  was 
puzzled.  It  was  very  irregular,  and  the  Colonel's 
gray  hairs  did  not  serve  to  alter  this  fact.  What 
was  the  meaning  of  it?  What  lay  underneath? 

Sometimes  he  caught  Fitzgerald  in  the  act  of 
staring  at  Madame  when  her  attention  was  other- 
wise engaged;  at  other  times  he  saw  that  Madame 
was  returning  this  cursory  investigation.  There 
was,  however,  altogether  a  different  meaning  in 
these  surreptitious  glances.  In  the  one  there  were 
interest,  doubt,  admiration;  in  the  other,  cold  cal- 
culation. At  no  time  did  the  conversation  touch 
politics,  and  the  crown  was  a  thousand  miles 
away — if  surface  indications  went  for  aught. 

Finally  the  Colonel  rose.  "A  toast — to  Madame 
the  duchess,  since  this  is  her  very  best  wine!" 

Maurice  emptied  his  glass  fast  enough;  but 
Fitzgerald  lowered  his  eyes  and  made  no  move- 
ment to  raise  his  glass.  The  pupils  in  Madame's 
eyes  grew  small. 

"That  is  scarcely  polite,  Monsieur,"  she  said. 

"Madame,"  he  replied  gently,  "my  parole  did 
not  include  toasts  to  her  Highness.  My  friend 
loves  wine  for  its  own  sake,  and  seldom  bothers 
his  head  about  the  toast  as  long  as  the  wine  is 


THE    PUPPET     CKOWN         141 

good.  Permit  me  to  withdraw  the  duchess  and 
substitute  yourself." 

"Do  so,  if  it  will  please  you.  In  truth,  it  was 
bad  taste  in  you,  count,  to  suggest  it." 

"It's  all  the  same  to  me;"  and  the  Colonel  re- 
filled his  glass  and  nodded. 

The  countess  smiled  behind  her  fan,  while 
Maurice  felt  the  edge  of  the  mild  reproach  which 
had  been  administered  to  him. 

"I  plead  guilty  to  the  impeachment.  It  was 
very  wrong.  Far  from  it  that  I  should  drink  to 
the  health  of  the  Philistines.  Madame  the  countess 
was  beating  me  down  with  her  eyes,  and  I  did  not 
think." 

"I  was  not  even  looking  at  you !"  declared  the 
countess,  blushing. 

The  incident  was  soon  forgotten;  and  at  length 
Madame  and  the  countess  rose. 

Said  the  first:  "We  will  leave  you  gentlemen 
to  your  cigars;  and  when  they  have  ceased  to  in- 
terest you,  you  will  find  us  in  the  music  room." 

"And  you  will  sing?"  said  Maurice  to  the 
countess. 

"If  you  wish."  She  was  almost  beautiful  when 
she  smiled,  and  she  smiled  on  Maurice. 

"I  confess,"  said  he,  "that  being  a  prisoner,  un- 
der certain  circumstances,  is  a  fine  life." 

"What  wicked  eyes  he  has,"  said  the  countess, 
as  she  and  Madame  entered  the  music  room. 

"Do  not  look  into  them  too  often,  my  dear,"  was 
the  rejoinder.  "I  have  asked  not  other  sacrifice 
than  that  you  should  occupy  his  attention  and 
make  him  fall  in  love  with  you." 


142 


"Ah,  Madame,  that  will  be  easy  enough.  But 
what  is  to  prevent  me  from  falling  in  love  with 
him?  He  is  very  handsome." 

"You  are  laughing!" 

"Yes,  I  am  laughing.  It  will  be  such  an  amus- 
ing adventure,  a  souvenir  for  my  old  age — and 
may  my  old  age  forget  me." 

The  men  lit  their  cigars  and  smoked  in  silence. 

"Colonel,"  said  Maurice  at  last,  "will  you 
kindly  tell  me  what  all  this  means?" 

"Never  ask  your  host  how  old  his  wine  is.  If 
he  is  proud  of  it,  he  will  tell  you."  He  blew  the 
smoke  under  the  candle  shades  and  watched  it  as 
it  darted  upward.  "Don't  you  find  it  comfort- 
able? I  should." 

"Conscience  will  not  lie  down  at  one's  bidding." 

"I  understood  that  you  were  a  diplomat?"  The 
Colonel  turned  to  Fitzgerald.  "I  hope  that,  when 
you  are  liberated,  you  will  forget  the  manner  in 
which  you  were  brought  here." 

"I  shall  forget  nothing,"  curtly. 

"The  devil !     I  can  not  fight  you ;  I  am  too  old." 

Fitzgerald  said  nothing,  and  continued  to  play 
with  his  emptied  wine-glass. 

"The  Princess  Alexia,"  went  on  the  Colonel,  "has 
a  bulldog.  I  have  always  wondered  till  now  what 
the  nationality  of  the  dog  was.  The  bulldog 
neither  forsakes  nor  forgives;  he  is  an  English- 
man." 

This  declaration  was  succeeded  by  another  in- 
terval of  silence.  The  Englishman  was  thinking 
of  his  father;  the  thoughts  of  Maurice  were  any- 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         143 

where  but  at  the  chateau;  the  Colonel  was  contem- 
plating them  both,  shrewdly. 

"Well,  to  the  ladies,  gentlemen;  it  is  half  after 
nine." 

The  countess  was  seated  at  the  piano,  improvis- 
ing. Madame  stood  before  the  fireplace,  arrang- 
ing the  pieces  on  a  chess  board.  In  the  center 
of  the  room  was  a  table  littered  with  books,  mag- 
azines and  illustrated  weeklies. 

"Do  you  play  chess,  Monsieur?"  said  Madame 
to  Fitzgerald. 

"I  do  not." 

"Well,  Colonel,  we  will  play  a  game  and  show 
him  how  it  is.  done." 

Fitzgerald  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat  down  at 
Madame's  elbow.  He  followed  every  move  she 
made  because  he  had  never  seen  till  now  so  round 
and  shapely  an  arm,  hands  so  small  and  white, 
tipped  with  pink  filbert  nails.  He  did  not  learn 
the  game  so  quickly  as  might  be.  He,  like 
Maurice,  was  pondering  over  the  unusual  position 
in  which  he  found  himself;  but  analysis  of  any 
sort  was  not  his  forte;  so  he  soon  forgot  all  save 
the  delicate  curve  of  Madame's  chin  and  throat, 
the  soft  ripple  of  her  laughter,  the  abysmal 
gray  of  her  eyes. 

"Monsieur  le  Capitaine,"  said  the  countess,  "what 
shall  I  sing  to  you?" 

"To  me?"  said  Maurice.  "Something  from 
Abt." 

Her  fingers  ran  lightly  over  the  keys,  and  pres- 
ently her  voice  rose  in  song,  a  song  low,  sweet, 
and  sad.  Maurice  peered  out  of  the  window  into 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN 


the  shades  of  night.  Visions  passed  and  repassed 
the  curtain  of  darkness.  Once  or  twice  the  countess 
turned  her  head  and  looked  at  him.  It  was  not 
only  a  handsome  face  she  saw,  but  one  that  car- 
ried the  mark  of  refinement.  .  .  .  Maurice  was 
thinking  of  the  lonely  princess  and  her  grave  dark 
eyes.  He  possessed  none  of  that  power  from 
which  princes  derive  benefits;  what  could  he  do? 
And  why  should  he  interest  himself  in  a  woman 
who,  in  any  event,  could  never  be  anything  to 
him,  scarcely  even  a  friend?  He  smiled. 

If  Fitzgerald  was  not  adept  at  analysis,  he  was. 
Nothing  ever  entered  his  mind  or  heart  that  he 
could  not  separate  and  define.  It  was  strange;  it 
was  almost  laughable;  to  have  fenced  as  long  and 
adroitly  as  he  had  fenced,  and  then  to  be.  dis- 
armed by  one  who  did  not  even  understand  the 
foils  !  Surrender  ?  Why  not  ?  .  By  and 

by  his  gaze  traveled  to  the  chess  players.  There 
was  another  game  than  chess  being  played  there, 
though  kings  and  queens  and  knights  and  bishops 
were  still  the  sum  of  it. 

"Are  you  so  very  far  away,  then?"  The  song 
had  ceased;  the  countess  was  looking  at  him  curi- 
ously. 

"Thank  you/'  he  said;  "indeed,  you  had  taken 
me  out  of  myself." 

"Do  you  like  chestnuts?"  she  asked  suddenly. 

"I  am  very  fond  of  them." 

"Then  I  shall  fetch  some."  It  occurred  to  her 
that  the  room  was  very  warm;  she  wanted  a  breath 
of  air  —  alone. 

"Checkmate  !"  cried  the  Colonel,  joyfully. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         145 

"Do  you  begin  to  understand?"  asked  Madame. 

"A  little,"  admitted  Fitzgerald,  who  did  not 
wish  to  learn  too  quickly.  "I  like  to  watch  the 
game." 

"So  do  I,"  said  Maurice,  who  had  approached 
the  table.  "I  should  like  to  know  what  the  game 
is,  too." 

Both  Madame  and  the  Colonel  appeared  to  ac- 
cept the  statement  and  not  the  innuendo.  Madame 
placed  the  figures  on  the  board. 

Maurice  strolled  over  to  the  table  and  aimlessly 
glanced  through  the  Vienna  illustrated  weeklies. 
He  saw  Franz  Josef  in  characteristic  poses,  full- 
page  engravings  of  the  military  maneuvers  and  re- 
productions of  the  notable  paintings.  He  picked 
up  an  issue  dated  June.  A  portrait  of  the  new 
Austrian  ambassador  to  France  attracted  his  atten- 
tion. He  turned  the  leaf.  What  he  saw  on  the 
following  page  caused  him  to  widen  his  eyes  and 
let  slip  an  ejaculation  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by 
the  chess  players.  Madame  seemed  on  the  point 
of  rising.  Maurice  did  not  lower  his  eyes  nor 
Madame  hers. 

"Checkmate  in  three  moves,  Madame !"  ex- 
claimed the  Colonel ;  "it  is  wonderful." 

"What's  the  matter,  Maurice?"  asked  Fitzgerald. 

"Jack,  I  am  a  ruined  man." 

"How?     What?"  nearly  upsetting  the  board. 

"I  just  this  moment  remember  that  I  left  my 
gas  burning  at  the  hotel,  and  it  is  extra." 

The  Colonel  and  Fitzgerald  lay  back  in  their 
chairs  and  roared  with  laughter. 

But  Madame  did  not  even  smile. 


CHAPTEE  X 

BEIXG  OF  LOXG  RIDES,   MAIDS,   KISSES   AND  MESSAGES 

Fitzgerald  was  first  into  bed  that  night. 

"I  want  to  finish  this  cigar,  Jack/'  said  Maurice, 
who  wished  to  be  alone  with  his  thoughts.  He 
sat  in  the  chair  by  the  window  and  lifted  his  feet 
to  the  sill.  The  night  wind  was  warm  and 
odorous.  He  had  found  a  clue,  but  through  what 
labyrinth  would  it  lead  him?  A  strange  adven- 
ture, indeed;  so  strange  that  he  was  of  half  a 
mind  that  he  dreamed.  Prisoners.  .  .  .  Why? 
And  these  two  women  alone  in  this  old  chateau,  a 
house  party.  There  lay  below  all  this  some  deep, 
design. 

Should  he  warn  his  friend?  Indeed,  as  yet, 
of  what  had  he  to  warn  him?  To  discover 
Madame  to  Fitzgerald  would  be  to  close  the 
entrance  to  this  labyrinth  which  he  desired  to  ex- 
plore. How  would  Madame  act,  now  that  she 
knew  he  possessed  her  secret?  Into  many  chan- 
nels he  passed,  but  all  these  were  blind,  and  led 
him  to  no  end.  Madame  had  a  purpose;  to  dis- 
cover what  this  purpose  was  Fitzgerald  must  re- 
main in  ignorance.  What  a  woman !  She  resem- 
bled one  of  those  fabulous  creatures  of  medieval 
146 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWN         147 

days.  And  why  was  the  countess  on  the  scene, 
and  what  was  her  part  in  this  invisible  game? 

He  finished  his  cigar  and  lit  another;  but  the 
second  cigar  solved  no  more  than  the  first. 
Mademoiselle  of  the  Veil!  He  knew  now  what 
she  meant;  having  asked  her  to  lift  her  veil,  she 
had  said,  "Something  terrible  would  happen." 
At  last  he,  too,  sought  bed,  but  he  did  not  sleep 
so  soundly  as  did  Fitzgerald. 

Ten  days  of  this  charming  captivity  passed; 
there  was  a  thicker  carpet  of  leaves  on  the  ground, 
and  new  distances  began  to  show  mistily  through 
the  dismantling  forest.  But  there  were  no  changes 
at  the  Eed  Chateau — no  outward  changes.  It 
might,  in  truth,  have  been  a  house  party  but  for 
the  prowling  troopers  and  the  continual  grumbling 
of  the  Englishman  when  alone  with  Maurice. 

During  the  day  they  hunted  or  took  long  rides 
into  the  interior  of  the  duchy.  Both  women  pos- 
sessed a  fine  skill  in  the  saddle.  In  the  evenings 
there  were  tourneys  at  chess,  games  and  music. 

Each  night  Fitzgerald  learned  a  little  more  about 
chess  and  a  little  less  about  woman.  The  countess, 
airy  and  delicate  as  a  verse  of  Voiture's,  bent  all 
her  powers  (and  these  were  not  inconsiderable) 
toward  the  subjugation  of  Maurice.  She  laughed, 
she  sang,  she  fascinated.  She  had  the  ability  to 
amuse  hour  after  hour.  She  offered  vague  prom- 
ises with  her  eyes,  and  refused  them  with  her  lips. 
Maurice,  who  was  never  impregnable  under  the 
'  fire  of  feminine  artillery,  was  at  times  half  in  love 
with  her;  but  his  suspicions,  always  near  the  sur- 
face, saved  him. 


148         THE     PUPPET     C  II  0  W  N 


Sometimes  he  caught  her  hand  and  retained  it 
over  long;  and  once/  when  he  kissed  it,  there  was 
no  rebuke.  Again,  when  she  sang,  he  would  lean 
so  close  that  she  could  feel  his  breath  on  her 
cheek,  and  her  fingers  would  stumble  into  discords. 
Often  she  would  suddenly  rise  from  the  piano  and 
walk  swiftly  from  the  room,  through  the  halls,  into 
the  park,  where,  though  he  followed,  he  never  could 
find  her.  One  day  she  and  Madame  returned  from 
a  walk  in  the  forest,  the  one  with  high  color  and 
brilliant  eyes,  the  other  impassive  as  ice.  Now, 
all  these  things  did  not  escape  Maurice,  but  he 
could  not  piece  them  together  with  any  result. 

On  the  morning  of  the  tenth  day  the  two 
prisoners  came  down  to  breakfast,  wondering  how 
much  longer  this  house  party  was  going  to  last. 

"George!   I  wish  I  had  a  pipe/'   said  Maurice. 

"So  do  I,"  Fitzgerald  echoed  glumly.  "I  am 
tired  of  cigars  and  weary  of  those  eternal  cigar- 
ettes. How  the  deuce  are  we  going  to  get  out  of 
this?" 

"What's  your  hurry?  We're  having  a  good 
time." 

"That's  the  trouble.     Hang  the  duchess!" 

"Hang  her  and  welcome.  But  why  do  you  com- 
plain to  me  and  not  to  Madame?  Are  you  afraid 
of  her?  Does  she  possess,  then,  what  is  called 
tamer's  magnetism?  0,  my  lion,  if  only  you  would 
roar  a  bit  more  at  her  and  less  at  me !" 

"I  don't  know  what  she  possesses;  but  I  do  know 
that  I'd  give  a  deal  to  be  out  of  this." 

"Is  the  chambermaid  idea  bothering  you?" 

"No,    Maurice,    it    is    not    the    chambermaid.     I 


THE    PUPPET     CROWS1         149 

feel  oppressed  by  something  which  I  can  not  de- 
fine." 

"Maybe  you  are  not  used  to  tokay  forty  years 
old?" 

"Wine  has  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

He  was  so  serious  that  Maurice  dropped  his 
jesting  tone.  "By  the  way/'  he  said,  "do  you 
sleep  soundly?" 

"No.  Every  night  I  am  awakened  by  fhe  noise 
of  a  horse  entering  the  court-yard." 

"So  am  I.  Moreover,  Madame  seems  to  be 
troubled  with  the  same  sleeplessness. 

"Madame?" 

"Yes.  She  is  so  troubled  with  sleeplessness  that 
nothing  will  quiet  her  but  the  sight  of  the  man 
who  rides  the  horse:  all  of  which  is  to  say  that 
a  courier  arrives  each  night  with  dispatches  from 
Bleiberg.  Now,  to  tell  the  truth,  the  courier  does 
not  keep  me  awake  half  so  much  as  the  thought 
of  who  is  eating  three  meals  a  day  at  the  end  of 
the  east  corridor  on  the  third  floor.  But  there 
are  Madame  and  the  countess  ;  we  have  kept  them 
waiting," 

"Good  morning,"  said  Madame,  smiling  as  they 
came  up.  "  And  how  have  you  slept  ?  " 

"Nothing  wakes  me  but  the  roll  of  the  drum  or 
thunder,"  answered  Fitzgerald  diffidently. 

"I  dream  of  horses,"  said  Maurice  carelessly. 

"  Bon  jour,  M.  le  Capitaine!"  cried  the  countess. 
Then  she  added  with  a  light  laugh  :  ' '  Come,  let 
me  try  you.  Portons  armes !  Presentons  armes! 
— How  beautifully  you  do  it  ! — Par  le  flanc  gauche  ! 
En  avant — rnarche  /'* 


150         THE    PUPPET     CKOWN 

Maurice  swung,  clicked  his  heels  and,  with  a 
covert  glance  at  Madame,  led  the  way  into  the 
dining  hall,  whistling,  "Behold  the  saber  of  my 
father!" 

"Ah,  I  do  not  see  the  Colonel,"  said  Maurice; 
for  night  and  day  the  old  soldier  had  been  with 
them. 

"He  has  gone  to  Brunnstadt,"  said  Madame, 
"but  will  return  this  evening." 

The  breakfast  was  short  and  merry.  Words 
passed  across  the  table  that  were  as  crisp  as  the 
toast.  Maurice  remarked  the  advent  of  two  liv- 
eried servants,  stolid  Germans  by  the  way,  who, 
as  he  afterward  found,  did  not  understand  French. 

"So  the  Colonel  has  gone  to  Brunnstadt?"  said 
Maurice;  which  was  a  long  way  of  asking  why 
the  Colonel  had  gone  to  Brunnstadt. 

"Yes,"  said  Madame;  "he  has  gone  to  consult 
Madame  the  -duchess  to  see  what  shall  be  done  to 
you,  Monsieur." 

"To  be  done  to  me?"  ignoring  the  challenge  in 
her  eyes. 

"Yes.  You  must  not  forget  that  you  promised 
me  your  sword,  and  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of 
presenting  it  to  her  Highness." 

"I  remember  nothing  about  promising  my 
sword,"  said  Maurice,  gazing  ceiling- ward. 

"What!     There  was  a  mental  reservation?" 

"No,  Madame.  I  remember  my  words  only  too 
well.  I  said  that  I  loved  adventure,  thoughtless 
youth  that  I  was,  and  that  I  was  easy  to  be 
found.  Which  is  all  true,  and  part  proved,  since 
I  am  here." 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         151 

"Still,  the  uniform  fits  you  exceedingly  well. 
The  hussars  hold  a  high  place  at  court." 

"Madame,"  replied  he  pleasantly,  "I  appreciate 
the  honor,  but  at  present  my  sword  and  fealty  are 
sworn  to  my  own  country.  And  besides,  I  have 
no  desire  to  take  part  in  the  petty  squabble  be- 
tween this  country  and  the  kingdom." 

The  forecast  of  a  storm  lay  in  Madame's  gray 
eyes. 

"Eh?  You  wish  to  placate  me,  Madame?" 
thought  Maurice. 

"He  is  right,  Madame/'  interposed  the  countess. 
"But  away  with  politics!  It  spoils  all  it  touches." 

"And  away  with  the  duchess,  too,"  put  in  Fitz- 
gerald, reaching  for  a  bunch  of  yellow  grapes. 
"With  all  due  respect  to  your  cause  and  beliefs, 
Madame  the  duchess,  your  mistress,  is  a  bugbear 
to  me.  The  very  sound  of  the  title  arouses  in  my 
heart  all  that  is  antagonistic." 

"You  have  not  seen  her  Highness,  Monsieur," 
said  Madame,  quietly.  "Perhaps  she  is  all  that 
is  desirable.  She  is  known  to  be  rich,  her  will  is 
paramount  to  all  others.  When  she  sets  her  heart 
on  a  thing  she  leaves  no  stone  unturned  until  she 
procures  it.  And,  countess,  do  they  not  say  of  her 
that  she  possesses  something — an  attribute — more 
dangerous  than  beauty — fascination?" 

"Yes,  Madame." 

"Madame  the  duchess,"  said  Maurice  dryly,  "has 
a  stanch  advocate  in  you,  Madame." 

"It  is  not  unnatural." 

"Be  that  as  it  may,"  said  Fitzgerald,  "she  is 
enemy." 


152         THE    PUPPET    CKOWN 

"Love  your  enemies,  says  the  Book,"  was  the  in- 
terposition of  the  countess,  who  stole  a  sly  glance 
at  Maurice  which  he  did  not  see. 

"That  would  not  be  difficult — in  some  cases,"  re- 
plied the  Englishman. 

"Ah,  come,"  thought  Maurice,  "my  friend  is  be- 
ginning to  pick  up  his  lines."  Aloud  he  said: 
"Madame,  will  you  confer  a  favor  on  me  by  per- 
mitting me  to  inform  my  superior  in  Vienna  of 
my  whereabouts?" 

"No,  Monsieur;  prisoners  are  not  allowed  to  com- 
municate with  the  outside  world.  Are  you  not 
enjoying  yourself?  Is  not  everything  being  done 
for  your  material  comfort?  What  complaint  have 
you  to  offer?" 

"A  gilded  cage  is  no  less  a  cage." 

"It  is  but  temporary.  The  duchess  has  com- 
manded that  you  be  held  until  it  is  her  pleasure 
to  come  to  the  chateau.  0,  Monsieur,  where  is  your 
gallantry?  Here  the  countess  and  I  have  done  so 
much  to  amuse  you,  and  you  speak  of  a  gilded 
cage !" 

"Pretty  bird!  pretty  bird!"  said  Maurice,  in  a 
piping  voice,  "will  it  have  some  caraway?" 

Madame  laughed.  "Well,  I  hear  the  grooms 
leading  the  horses  under  the  porte  cochtfre.  Go, 
then,  for  the  morning  ride.  I  am  sorry  that  I 
can  not  accompany  you.  I  have  some  letters  to 
write." 

Fitzgerald  curled  his  mustache.  "I'll  forswear 
the  ride  myself.  I  was  reading  a  good  book  last 
night ;  I'll  finish  it,  and  keep  Madame  company." 

Madame    trifled    with    the    toast    crumbs.     Fitz- 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         153 

gerald's  profound  dissimulation  caused  a  smile  to 
cross  Maurice's  lips. 

"Come,  countess,"  said  Maurice,  gaily;  "we'll 
take  the  ride  together,  since  Madame  has  to  write 
and  my  lord  to  read." 

"Five  minutes  until  I  dress,"  replied  the  countess, 
and  she  sped  away. 

"What  a  beautiful  girl !"  said  Madame,  fondly. 
"Poor  dear !  Her  life  has  not  been  a  bed  of  roses." 

"No?"  said  Maurice,  while  Fitzgerald  raised  his 
eyebrows  inquiringly. 

"No.  She  was  formerly  a  maid  of  honor  to  her 
Highness.  She  made  an  unhappy  marriage." 

"And  where  is  the  count?"  asked  Fitzgerald  in 
surprise.  He  shot  a  glance  of  dismay  at  Maurice, 
who,  translating  it,  smiled. 

"He  is  dead." 

Fitzgerald  looked  relieved. 

"What  a  fine  thing  it  is,"  said  Maurice,  rising, 
"to  be  a  man  and  wed  where  and  how  you  will !" 
He  withdrew  to  the  main  hall  to  don  his  cap 
and  spurs.  As  he  stooped  to  strap  the  latter,  he 
saw  a  sheet  of  paper,  crinkled  by  recent  dampness, 
lying  on  the  floor.  He  picked  it  up — and  read  it. 

"The  plan  you  suggest  is  worthy  of  you,  Madame. 
The  Englishman  is  fair  game,  being  a  common  ene- 
my. Let  us  gain  our  ends  through  the  heart,  since 
his  purse  is  impregnable  to  assaults.  But  the  count- 
ess ?  "Why  not  the  pantry  maid,  since  the  other  is 
an  American  ?  They  lack  discrimination.  The  king 
grows  weaker  every  day.  Nothing  was  found  in  the 
Englishman's  rooms.  I  fear  that  the  consols  are  in 
the  safe  at  the  British  legation.  As  usual,  a  courier 
will  arrive  each  night.  B." 


154         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

"Why  —  not  —  the  —  pantry  rnaid?"  Maurice 
drawled.  "That  is  flippant."  He  read  the  mes- 
sage again.  "What  plan?"  Suddenly  he  struck 
his  thigh.  "By  George,  so  that  is  it,  eh,  Madame? 
So  that  is  why  we  are  so  comfortably  lodged  here? 
I  am  in  the  way,  and  you  bait  the  hook  with  a 
countess!  Since  the  purse  will  not  lead  the  way, 
the  heart,  eh?  Certainly  I  shall  tell  my  lord  the 
Englishman  all  about  his  hostess  when  I  return 
from  the  ride.  Decidedly  you  are  clever.  0,  how 
careless !  Not  even  in  cipher,  so  that  he  who  reads 
may  run.  And  who  is  B.  ? — Beauvais !  Some- 
thing told  me  that  this  man  had  a  hand  in  the 
affair.  I  remember  the  look  he  gave  me.  A  traitor, 
too. 

"Hang  my  memory,  which  seems  always  to 
forget  what  I  wish  to  remember  and  remember 
what  I  wish  to  forget!  Where  have  I  met  this 
man  Beauvais  before  ?  Ah,  the  countess !"  He 
thrust  the  message  into  his  breast.  "Evidently 
Madame  thinks  I  am  worth  consideration;  uncom- 
monly pretty  bait.  Shall  I  let  the  play  run  on, 
or  shall  I  tell  her? — Ah!  you  have  two  minutes 
to  spare,"  he  said,  as  she  approached.  "But  you 
do  not  need  them,"  throwing  a  deal  of  admira- 
tion into  his  glance. 

"It  does  not  take  me  long  to  dress — on  occa- 
sions." 

"A  compliment  to  me?"  he  said. 

"If  you  will  accept  it." 

It  was  an  exhilarating  morning,  full  of  forest  per- 
fumes. Through  the  luize  the  mountains  glittered 
like  huge  emeralds  and  amethysts. 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         155 

"What  a  day!"  said  the  countess,  as  they  gal- 
loped away. 

"Aye,  for  plots  and  war  and  love  I" 

"For  plots  and  war?"  demurely.  Her  cheeks 
were  rosy  and  her  hair  as  yellow  as  the  silk  of 
corn. 

"Well,  then,  for  love."  He  shortened  his  rein. 
"A  propos,  have  you  ever  been  in  love,  countess  ?* 

"I?     What  a  question!" 

"Have  you?" 

"N — no !  Let  us  talk  of  plots  and  war,"  gazing 
across  the  valley. 

"No;  let  us  talk  of  love.  I  am  in  love,  and 
one  afflicted  that  way  wishes  a  confidant.  I  ap- 
point you  mine." 

"Some   rosy-cheeked  peasant  girl?"   laughing. 

"Perhaps.  Perhaps  it's  only  a — a  pantry  maid," 
with  a  sly  look  from  the  corner  of  his  eyes.  Evi- 
dently she  had  not  heard.  She  was  still  laugh- 
ing. "I  have  heard  of  hermits  falling  in  love 
with  stars,  and  have  laughed.  Now  I  am  in  the 
same  predicament.  I  love  a  star — " 

"Operatic?  To  be  sure!  Mademoiselle  Lenor- 
mand  of  the  Royal  Vienna  is  in  Bleiberg.  How 
she  keeps  her  age !" 

It  was  Maurice's  turn  to  laugh. 

"And  that  is  why  you  came  to  Bleiberg!  Ah, 
these  opera  singers,  had  I  my  way,  they  should  all 
be  aged  and  homely." 

"Countess,  you  are  pulling  the  bit  too  hard," 
said  he.  "I  noticed  yesterday  that  your  horse  has 
a  very  tender  mouth." 

"Thank  you."     She  slacked  the  rein.     "He  was 


156          THE    P  U  P  P  E  T    U  It  0  \V  X 

going  too  close  to  the  ditch.     You  were  saying— 

"  No,  it  was  you  who  were  saying  that  all 
actresses  should  be  aged  and  homely.  But  it  is 
not  Mademoiselle  Lenormand,  it  is  not  the  peas- 
ant, nor  the  pantry  maid." 

This  time  she  looked  up  quickly. 

"The  woman  I  love  is  too  far  away,  so  1  an 
going  to  give  up  thinking  of  her.  Countess,  I 
made  a  peculiar  discovery  this  morning." 

"A  discovery,  Monsieur  ?     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Do  you  see  that  fork  in  the  road,  a  mile  away? 
When  we  reach  it  and  turn  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is. 
If  I  told  you  now  it  might  spoil  the  ride.  What 
a  day,  truly!  How  clear  everything  is!  And  the 
air  is  like  wine."  He  drew  in  deep  breaths. 

"Let  us  hurry  and  reach  the  fork  in  the  road; 
my  curiosity  is  stifling  me." 

Maurice  did  not  laugh  as  she  expected  he  would. 
As  she  observed  the  thoughtful  frown  between  his 
brows,  a  shiver  of  dread  ran  through  her.  It  did 
not  take  long  to  cover  the  intervening  mile.  They 
turned,  and  the  horses  fell  into  a  quick  step. 

"Now,  Monsieur;  please!" 

After  all  ...  But  he  quelled  the  gentle 
tremor  in  his  heart.  A  month  ago,  had  he  known 
her,  he  might  now  have  told  her  altogether  a  dif- 
ferent story.  He  could  see  that  she  had  not  an 
inkling  of  what  was  to  come  (for  he  had  de- 
termined to  tell  hor);  and  he  vaguely  wondered 
if  he  should  bring  humiliation  to  the  dainty  crea- 
ture. It  would  b'  like  nicking  a  porcelain  cup. 
Her  brows  were  arched  inquisitively  and  her  lips 
puckered  .  He  had  had  a  narrow  escape. 


THE     PUPPET     CBOWN         157 

He  drew  the  message  from  his  breast,  leanid  acrosi 
and  handed  it  to  her. 

"Why,  what  is  this,  Monsieur?'"' 

"Read  it  and  see."  And  he  busied  himself  with 
the  tangled  mane  of  his  horse.  When  they  had 
ridden  several  yards,  he  heard  her  voice. 

"Here,  Monsieur."  The  hand  was  extended,  but 
the  face  was  averted. 

"Countess,  you  are  too  charming  a  woman  to 
lend  yourself  to  such  schemes." 

There  was  no  reply. 

"Did  you  not  volunteer  to  make  me  fall  in  love 
with  you  to  keep  me  from  interfering  with 
Madame's  plans?"  It  was  brutal,  but  he  was  com- 
pelled to  say  it. 

Silence. 

"Did  you  not?"  he  persisted.  "When  one  writes 
such  messages  as  these,  one  should  use  an  intri- 
cate cipher.  Had  I  been  other  than  a  prisoner,  what 
I  have  done  would  not  be  the  act  of  a  gentleman. 
But  I  am  a  prisoner;  I  must  defend  myself.  To 
rob  a  man  through  his  love !  And  such  a  man ! 
He  is  a  very  infant  in  the  hands  of  a  woman.  He 
has  been  a  soldier  all  his  life.  All  women  to  him 
are  little  less  than  angels;  he  knows  nothing  of 
their  treachery,  their  deceit,  their  false  smiles.  It 
will  be  an  easy  victory,  or  rather  it  would  have 
been,  for  I  shall  do  my  best  to  prevent  it.  Madame 
is  not  unknown  to  me;  I  have  been  waiting 
to  see  what  meant  this  peculiar  house  party. 

"Perhaps  I  am  now  too  late.  Madame  dis- 
trusts me.  I  dare  say  she  has  her  reasons.  She 
went  to  you.  You  were  to  occupy  me.  I  was 


158         THE    PUPPET     CEOWN 

young,  I  liked  the  society  of  women,  I  was  gay  and 
careless.  She  has  decked  me  out  as  one  would 
deck  a  monkey  (and  doubtless  she  calls  me  one 
behind  my  back),  and  has  offered  me  a  sword  to 
play  with. 

"In  America,  when  a  man  puts  a  sword  in  his 
hand,  it  is  to  kill  somebody.  Here — aye,  all  over 
the  continent,  for  that  matter — swords  are  baubles 
for  young  nobles,  used  to  slash  each  other  in  love 
affairs.  I  respect  and  admire  you;  had  I  not  done 
so,  I  should  not  have  spoken.  Countess,  be  frank 
with  me,  as  frank  as  I  have  been  with  you*,  have 
I  not  guessed  rightly?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur,"  her  head  bowed  and  her  cheeks 
white.  "Yes,  yes!  it  was  a  miserable  game.  But 
I  love  Madame;  I  would  sacrifice  my  pride  and 
my  heart  for  her,  if  need  be." 

"I  can  believe  that." 

"And  believe  me  when  I  say  that  the  moment 
I  saw  you,  I  knew  that  my  conduct  was  going  to 
be  detestable.  But  I  had  given  my  promise.  A 
woman  has  but  little  to  offer  to  her  country;  I 
have  offered  my  pride,  and  I  am  a  proud  woman, 
Monsieur.  I  am  ashamed.  I  am  glad  that  you 
spoke,  for  it  was  becoming  unbearable  to  throw 
myself  at  a  man  whose  heart  I  knew  intuitively 
to  be  elsewhere."  She  raised  her  e}*es,  which  were 
filled  with  a  strange  luster.  "Will  you  forgive  me, 
Monsieur  ?" 

"With  all  my  heart.  For  now  I  know  that  we 
shall  be  friends.  You  will  be  relieved  of  an  odi- 
ous part;  for  you  are  too  handsome  not  to  have 
in  keeping  some  other  heart  besides  your  own." 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         159 

He  then  began  gaily  to  describe  some  of  his 
humorous  adventures,  and  continued  in  this  vein 
till  they  arrived  once  more  at  the  chateau.  Some- 
times the  countess  laughed,  but  he  could  see  that 
her  sprightliness  was  gone.  When  they  came 
under  the  porte  cochere  he  sprang  from  his  horse 
and  assisted  her  to  dismount;  and  he  did  not  re- 
linquish her  hand  till  he  had  given  it  a  friendly 
pressure.  She  stood  motionless  on  the  steps,  cen- 
tered a  look  on  him  which  he  failed  to  interpret, 
then  ran  swiftly  into  the  hall,  thence  to  her  room, 
the  door  of  which  she  bolted. 

"It  would  not  be  difficult,"  he  mused,  commun- 
ing with  the  thought  which  had  come  to  him.  "It 
would  be  something  real,  and  not  a  chimera." 

He  turned  over  the  horses  to  the  grooms,  and 
went  in  search  of  Fitzgerald  to  inform  him  of  his 
discovery;  but  the  Englishman  was  nowhere  to  be 
found.  Neither  was  Madame.  Being  thirsty,  he 
proceeded  to  the  dining  hall.  Fadette,  the  maid, 
was  laying  the  silver. 

"Ah,  the  'pantry  maid/"  he  thought.  "Good 
day,  Fadette." 

"Does  Monsieur  wish  for  something?" 

"A  glass  of  water.     Thanks!" 

She  retreated  and  kept  her  eyes  lowered. 

"Fadette,  you  are  charming.  Has  any  one  ever 
told  you  that?" 

"0,  Monsieur!"  blushing. 

"Have  they?"  lessening  the  distance  between 
them. 

''Sometimes,"  faintly.     She  could  not  withstand 


160         THE     PUPPET     CBOWN 

his  glance,  so  she  retired  a  few  more  steps,  only 
to  find  herself  up  with  the  wall. 

With  a  laugh  he  sprang  forward  and  caught  her 
face  between  his  hands  and  imprinted  a  kiss  on 
her  left  cheek.  Suddenly  she  wrenched  herself 
loose,  uttered  a  frightened  cry  and  fled  down  the 
pantryway. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  girl?"  he  muttered 
aloud.  "I  wanted  to  ask  her  some  questions." 

"Ask  them  of  me,  Monsieur,"  said  a  voice  from 
the  doorway. 

Maurice  wheeled.  It  was  Madame,  hut  her  face 
expressed  nothing.  He  saw  that  he  had  been 
caught.  The  humor  of  the  situation  got  the  better 
of  him,  and  he  laughed.  Madame  ignored  this 
unseemly  hilarity. 

"Monsieur,  is  this  the  way  you  return  my  kind- 
ness ?" 

"Permit  me  to  apologize.  As  to  your  kindness, 
I  have  just  discovered  that  it  is  of  a  most  danger- 
ous quality." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  I  could  not  kiss  Madame  the  countess 
with  the  same  sense  of  security  as  I  could  the — 
pantry  maid,"  bowing. 

Just  now  Madame's  face  expressed  a  good  deal. 
"Of  what  are  you  talking?"  advancing  a  step. 

"I  had  in  mind  what  our  friend,  Colonel  Beau- 
vais,  remarked  in  his  recent  dispatch:  I  know  no 
discrimination.  The  fact  is,  I  do.  I  found  the 
dispatch  on  the  floor  this  morning.  Allow  me  to 
return  it  to  you.  I  have  kept  silent,  Madame,  be- 
cause I  did  not  know  how  to  act." 


THE    PUPPET     CROWX         161 

"You  have  dared — ?"  her  lips  pressed  and  her 
eyes  thundrous. 

"To  read  it?  Aye.  I  am  a  prisoner;  it  was  in 
self-defense.  Madame,  you  do  me  great  honor.  A 
countess!  What  consideration  to  the  indiscrim- 
inate! Au  revoir,  then,  till  luncheon;"  and  he 
left  the  room,  whistling — 

Void  le  sabre  de  mon  p&re! 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  DENOUEMENT 

At  no  time  during  the  afternoon  did  Maurice 
find  the  opportunity  to  speak  privately  to  Fitz- 
gerald. Madame  hovered  about,  chatting,  smiling 
and  humming  snatches  of  song.  She  seemed  to 
have  formed  a  sudden  attachment  for  Maurice; 
that  is  to  say,  she  could  not  bear  to  lose  sight  of 
him,  not  for  the  briefest  moment. 

He  swallowed  his  chagrin,  for  he  could  but 
confess  that  it  was  sugar-coated.  Madame  had  at 
last  considered  his  case,  and  had  labeled  him  dan- 
gerous. Somehow  a  man  always  likes  to  be  prop- 
erly valued.  It  re-establishes  his  good  opinion  of 
himself. 

Well,  well;  however  affectionate  Madame  might 
be,  she  could  scarcely  carry  it  beyond  the  threshold 
of  his  chamber,  and  he  was  determined  to  retire  at 
an  early  hour.  But  he  had  many  things  to  learn. 

Fitzgerald  was  abandoned  to  the  countess,  who 
had  still  much  color  to  regain.  From  time  to  time 
the  Englishman  looked  over  his  shoulder  to  see 
what  was  going  on  between  Madame  and  his 
friend,  and  so  missed  half  of  what  the  countess  said. 
162 


THE     PUPPET    CKOWN         163 

"Come/7  thought  Maurice,  "it  is  time  I  made  a 
play." 

The  blackberries  were  ripe  along  the  stone  walls 
which  surrounded  the  chateau.  Maurice  wandered 
here  and  there,  plucking  what  fruit  he  could  find. 
Now  and  then  he  would  offer  a  branch  to  Madame. 
At  length,  as  though  by  previous  arrangement  with 
Madame,  the  countess  led  Fitzgerald  around  to  the 
other  side  of  the  chateau,  so  that  Madame  and 
Maurice  were  alone.  Immediately  the  smile, 
which  had  rested  on  her  lips,  vanished.  Her 
companion  was  gazing  mountainward,  and  cogitat- 
ing. How  fared  those  in  Bleiberg? 

"What  a  beautiful  world  it  is!"  said  a  low,  soft 
voice  close  to  his  ear. 

Maurice  resumed  his  berry  picking. 

"What  exquisite  tints  in  the  skies !"  went  on 
the  voice;  "what  matchless  color  in  the  forests!" 

Maurice  plucked  a  berry,  ate  it,  and  smacked 
his  lips.  It  was  a  good  berry. 

"But  what  a  terrible  thing  it  would  be  if  one 
should  die  suddenly,  or  be  thrown  into  a  window- 
less  dungeon,  shut  out  from  all  these  splendid 
reaches  ?" 

Maurice  plucked  another  berry,  but  he  did  not 
eat  it.  Instinctively  he  turned — and  met  a  pair 
of  eyes  as  hard  and  cold  and  gray  as  new  steel. 

"That,"  said  he,  "sounds  like  a  threat." 

"And  if  it  were,  Monsieur,  and  if  it  were?" 

"If  it  were,  I  should  say  that  you  had  discov- 
ered that  I  know  too  much.  I  suspected  from  the 
first;  the  picture  merely  confirmed  my  suspicions. 


164         THE    PUPPET     CKOWN 

I  see  now  that  it  was  thoughtless  in  me  not  to 
have  told  my  friend;  but  it  is  not  too  late." 

"And  why,  I  ask,  have  I  not  suppressed  you 
before  this?" 

"Till  to-day,  Madame,  you  had  not  given  me 
your  particular  consideration."  Then,  as  if  the 
conversation  was  not  interesting  him,  he  returned 
to  the  berries.  "There's  a  fine  one  there.  It's  a 
little  high ;  but  then !"  He  tiptoed,  drew  the 
branch  from  the  wall,  and  snatched  the  luscious 
fruit.  "Ah !" 

"Monsieur,  attend  to  me;  the  berries  can  wait." 

"Madame,  the  life  of  a  good  blackberry  is  short." 

"To  begin  with,  you  say  that  I  did  not  show 
you  consideration.  Few  princes  have  been  shown 
like  consideration." 

"I  was  wrong.  It  is  not  every  man  that  has  a 
countess — and  a  pretty  one,  too! — thrown  at  his 
head." 

Madame  was  temporarily  silenced  by  this  retort; 
it  upset  her  calculations.  She  scrutinized  the 
clean,  smooth  face,  and  she  saw  lines  which  had 
hitherto  escaped  her  notice.  She  was  at  last  con- 
vinced that  she  had  to  contend  with  a  man,  a  man 
who  had  dealt  with  both  men  and  women.  How 
deep  was  he?  Could  honors,  such  as  she  could 
give,  and  money  plumb  the  depths?  ...  He 
was  an  American.  She  smiled  the  smile  of  du- 
plicity. 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,   "do  you  lack  wealth?" 

"Yes,  I  lack  it;  but  that  is  not  to  say  that  I  de- 
sire it." 

"Perhaps  it  is  honors  you  desire?" 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         165 

"Honors?  To  what  greater  honor  may  I  aspire 
than  that  which  is  written  in  my  passports?" 

"What  is  written  in  your  passports?" 

"That  I  am  a  citizen  of  the  United  States  of 
America.  It  would  not  be  good  taste  in  me  to 
accept  honors  save  those  that  my  country  may 
choose  to  confer." 

Again  Madame  found  her  foil  turned  aside.  She 
began  to  lose  patience.  Her  hoot  patted  the  sod. 
"Monsieur,  since  the  countess  is  not  high  enough, 
since  gold  and  honors  have  no  charm,  listen." 

"I  am  listening,  Madame." 

"I  permit  you  to  witness  the  comic  opera,  but 
I  shall  allow  no  prompting  from  outsiders." 

"Madame,  do  you  expect  me  to  sit  calmly  by 
and  see  my  friend  made  a  fool?"  He  spoke 
warmly  and  his  eyes  remained  steadfast. 

"Certainly  that  is  what  you  shall  do,"  coldly. 

"Madame,  you  are  a  beautiful  woman;  heaven 
has  endowed  you  with  something  more  than  beauty. 
Is  it  possible  that  the  gods  forgot  to  mix  con- 
science in  the  mold?" 

"Conscience?    Royalty  knows  none." 

"Ah,  Madame,  wait  till  you  are  royal." 

"Take  care.     You  have  not  felt  my  anger." 

"I  would  rather  that  than  your  love." 

She  marveled  at  her  patience. 

"If  you  have  no  conscience,  Madame,  I  have.  I 
shall  warn  him.  You  shall  not  dishonor  him  if 
I  can  prevent  it.  You  wish  to  win  his  love,  and 
you  have  gauged  the  possibilities  of  it  so  accu- 
rately that  you  know  you  will  have  but  to  ask, 
be  it  his  honor  or  his  life.  A  far  finer  thing  itj 


166         THE    PUPPET    CEOWN 

would  be  for  you  to  win  your  crown  at  the  point 
of  the  sword.  There  would  be  a  little  glory  in  it 
then.  But  even  then,  the  world  would  laugh  at 
you.  For  you  would  be  waging  war  against  a 
lonely  woman,  a  paralytic  king,  a  prelate  who  is 
a  man  of  peace.  What  resistance  could  these  three 
offer? 

"But  to  gain  your  ends  by  treachery  and  de- 
ceit, to  rob  a  man  of  his  brains  and  heart,  laugh- 
ing the  while  in  your  sleeve;  to  break  his  life  and 
make  him  curse  all  women,  from  Eve  to  you  and 
the  mother  who  bore  him !  Ah,  Madame,  let  me 
plead  with  you.  Give  him  his  liberty.  Let  him 
go  back  and  complete  the  task  imposed  on  him. 
Do  not  break  his  life,  for  life  is  more  than  a 
crown;  do  not  compel  him  to  sully  his  honor,  for 
honor  is  more  than  life. 

<r5Tour  cause  is  just,  I  will  admit,  but  do  not 
tarnish  it  by  such  detestable  means.  JTis  true 
that  a  crown  to  me  signifies  nothing,  but  life  and 
honor  are  common  to  us  both.  With  all  his  strength 
and  courage,  my  friend  is  helpless.  All  his  life 
he  has  been  without  the  society  of  women.  If  he 
should  love  you — God  help  him !  His  love  would 
be  without  calculation,  without  reason,  blind  and 
furious.  Madame,  do  not  destroy  him." 

Sometimes,  in  the  passing,  we  are  stopped  by 
the  sound  of  a  voice.  It  is  not  the  words  it  utters, 
nor  the  range  nor  tone.  It  is  something  indefin- 
able, and,  though  we  can  not  analyze  it,  we  are 
willing  to  follow  wherever  it  leads.  Such  a  voice 
Maurice  possessed,  though  he  was  totally  ignorant 
of  its  power.  But  Madame,  as  she  listened,  felt 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         167 

its  magic  influence,  and  for  a  moment  the  spell 
rendered  her  mute. 

"Monsieur,  you  have  missed  your  vocation;  you 
plead  well,  indeed.  Unfortunately,  I  can  not  hear; 
my  ears  are  of  wax.  No,  no !  I  have  nourished 
these  projects  too  long;  they  are  a  part  of  me. 
Laughed  at,  you  say?  Have  I  not  been  laughed 
at  from  one  end  of  the  continent  to  the  other?" 
passionately.  "It  is  my  turn  now,  and  woe  to 
those  who  have  dared  to  laugh.  I  shall  sweep  all 
obstacles  away;  nothing  shall  stop  me.  Mine  the 
crown  is,  and  mine  it  shall  be.  I  am  a  woman, 
and  I  wished  to  avoid  bloodshed.  But  not  even 
that  shall  stay  me ;  not  even  love !"  Her  bosom 
heaved,  her  hands  were  clenched,  and  her  gray  eyes 
flashed  like  troubled  waters  in  the  sunlight. 

"Madame,  if  you  love  him — " 

"Well?"  proudly. 

"No,  I  am  wrong.  If  you  loved  him  you  would 
prize  above  all  else  this  honor  of  which  you  in- 
tend to  rob  him." 

"I  brought  you  here  not  to  discuss  whether  I 
am  right  or  wrong.  Look  about  you." 

Maurice  was  somewhat  troubled  to  discover  sev- 
eral troopers  lounging  about  just  out  of  earshot. 
They  were  so  arranged  as  to  prevent  egress  from 
the  park.  He  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  wall.  It 
was  eight  feet  in  height. 

Madame  saw  the  look,  and  said,  "Corporal !" 

There  was  a  noise  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall, 
and  presently  a  head  bobbed  up. 

"Madame?"  inquired  the  head. 

"Nothing-     I   wished   to   know   if   you   were   at 


168         THE    PUPPET     CEOWN 

your  post."  She  turned  to  Maurice,  who  was  puz- 
zled to  know  what  all  this  was  preamble  to. 
"Monsieur  Carewe,  I  never  forget  details.  I  had 
an  idea  that  when  I  submitted  my  proposals  to 
you,  you  might  be  tempted  to  break  your  parole." 

Maurice  gnawed  his  lip.     "Proceed,  Madame." 

"There  are  only  two.  If  you  do  not  promise 
here  and  now  in  no  way  to  interfere  with  my 
plans,  these  troopers  will  convey  you  to  Brunn- 
stadt,  where  you  will  be  kept  in  confinement  until 
the  succession  to  the  throne  is  decided  one  way  or 
the  other.  The  other  proposal  is,  if  you  promise 
— and  I  have  faith  in  your  word — the  situation  will 
continue  the  same  as  at  present.  Choose,  Mon- 
sieur. Which  is  it  to  be  ?" 

The  devil  gleamed  in  his  eyes.  He  remained 
silent. 

"Well!   Well!"  impatiently. 

"I  accept  the  alternative,"  with  bad  grace.  "If 
I  made  a  dash — " 

"You  would  be  shot;  those  were  my  orders." 

"And  if  I  went  to  prison — " 

"You  would  miss  what  you  call  the  comic  opera, 
but  which  to  me  is  all  there  is  in  life.  You  say 
that  I  have  read  your  friend  well.  That  is  true. 
Do  you  think  that  it  is  easy  for  me  to  lessen  my- 
self in  my  own  eyes?  No  woman  lives  who  is 
prouder  than  I.  Kemember,  you  are  not  to  hint 
at  what  I  propose  to  do,  nor  who  I  am.  See !  It 
is  all  because  you  read  something  which  was  not 
intended  for  your  eyes.  Be  my  friend,  or  be  my 
enemy,  it  is  a  matter  of  indifference  to  me.  You 
have  only  yourself  to  blame.  Had  you  gone 


169 


about  your  business  and  not  intruded  where  you 
were  not  wanted,  neither  you  nor  your  friend 
would  be  here.  No  interference  from  you,  Mon- 
sieur; that  is  the  understanding."  She  raised 
her  hand  and  made  a  sign,  and  the  troopers  took 
themselves  off.  "Now  you  may  go — to  the 
countess,  if  you  wish;  though  I  dare  say  that  she 
will  not  find  you  in  the  best  of  tempers." 
"I  dare  say  she  won't/'  said  Maurice. 

Fitzgerald  sat  by  a  window  in  the  music  room. 
He  had  resurrected  from  no  one  knew  where  a 
clay  with  a  broken  stem.  There  was  a  thought- 
ful cast  to  his  countenance,  and  he  puffed  away, 
blissfully  unconscious  of,  or  indifferent  to,  the 
close  proximity  of  the  velvet  curtains.  A  thrifty 
housewife,  could  she  have  seen  the  smoke  rise  and 
curl  and  lose  itself  in  the  folds  above,  would  have 
experienced  the  ecstasy  of  anxiety  and  perturba- 
tion. But  there  was  no  thrifty  housewife  at  the 
Red  Chateau,  nothing  but  dreams  of  conquest  and 
revenge. 

Twilight  was  gathering  about,  soft-footed  and 
shadowful.  Long  reaches  of  violet  and  vermilion 
clouds  pressed  thickly  on  the  western  line  of  hills. 
The  mists  began  to  rise,  changing  from  opal  to 
sapphire.  The  fantastic  melodies  of  wandering 
gypsy  songs  went  throbbing  through  the  room;  rol- 
licking gavots,  Hungarian  dances,  low  and  slum- 
brous nocturnes.  As  the  music  grew  sadder  and 
dreamier,  the  smoker  moved  uneasily. 

Somehow,  it  gripped  his  heart;  and  the  long 
years  of  loneliness  returned  and  overwhelmed  him. 


THE    PUPPET     CEOWN 


They  marshaled  past,  thirteen  in  all;  and  there 
were  glimpses  of  deserts,  snowcapped  mountains, 
men  moving  in  the  blur  of  smoke,  long  watches  in 
the  night.  Thirteen  years  in  God-forsaken  outposts, 
with  never  a  sight  of  a  woman's  face,  the  sound 
of  her  voice,  the  swish  of  her  gown,  nor  a  touch 
of  the  spell  which  radiates  from  her  presence. 

He  had  never  made  friends.  Others  had  come 
up  to  him  and  passed  him,  and  had  gone  to  the 
cities,  leaving  him  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  cold, 
the  heat,  the  watchfulness.  He  had  made  his  bed; 
he  was  too  much  his  father's  son  to  whine  because 
it  was  hard.  Often  he  used  to  think  how  a  few 
words,  from  a  pride  humbled,  would  have  removed 
the  barrier.  But  the  words  never  came,  nor  was 
the  pride  ever  humbled. 

Out  of  all  the  thirteen  years  he  could  re- 
member only  six  months  of  pleasure.  He  had 
been  transferred  temporarily  to  Calcutta,  where 
his  Colonel,  who  had  received  secret  information 
concerning  him,  had  treated  him  like  a  gentle- 
man, and  had  employed  him  as  regimental  inter- 
preter, for  he  spoke  French  and  German  and  a 
smattering  of  Indian  tongues.  During  his  lonely 
hours  he  had  studied,  for  he  knew  that  some  day 
he  would  be  called  upon  to  administer  a  vast 
fortune.  .  .  .  He  laid  the  pipe  on  the  sill, 
rested  his  elbows  beside  it,  and  dropped  his  chin 
in  his  hands.  What  a  fool  he  had  been  to  waste 
the  best  years  of  his  life !  His  father  would  have 
opened  to  him  a  boundless  career;  he  would  have 
seen  the  world  under  the  guidance  of  a  master 
hand.  And  here  he  was  to-day,  the  possessor  of 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         171 

millions,  a  beggar  in  friends,  no  niche  to  fill,  a 
wanderer  from  place  to  place. 

The  old  pile  in  England,  he  never  wished  to  see 
ii  again;  the  memories  which  it  would  arouse  would 
be  too  bitter.  .  .  .  The  shade  of  Beethoven 
touched  him  as  it  passed;  Mozart,  Mendelssohn, 
Chopin.  But  he  was  thinking  only  of  his  loneli- 
ness, and  the  marvelous  touch  of  the  hands  which 
evoked  the  great  spirits  was  lost  upon  him. 

Maurice  was  seated  in  one  of  the  gloomy  cor- 
ners. He  had  still  much  good  humor  to  recover. 
He  pulled  at  his  lips,  and  wondered  from  time 
to  time  what  was  going  on  in  Fitzgerald's  head. 
Poor  devil !  he  thought ;  could  he  resist  this 
woman  whose  accomplishments  were  so  varied  that 
at  one  moment  she  could  overthrow  a  throne  and 
at  the  next  play  Phyllis  to  some  strolling  Cory- 
don?  Since  he  himself,  who  knew  her,  could  en- 
tertain for  her  nothing  but  admiration,  what  hope 
was  there  for  the  Englishman  ?  What  a  woman ! 
She  savored  of  three  hundred  years  off.  To  plan 
by  herself,  to  arrange  the  minutest  detail,  and 
above  all  to  wait  patiently!  Patience  has  never 
been  the  attribute  of  a  woman  of  power;  Madame 
possessed  both  patience  and  power. 

The  countess  was  seated  in  another  dark  corner. 
Suddenly  she  arose  and  said,  in  a  voice  blended 
with  great  trouble  and  impatience:  "For  pity's 
sake,  Madame,  cease  those  dirges!  Play  something 
lively;  I  am  sad." 

The  music  stopped,  but  presently  began  again. 
Maurice  leaned  forward.  Madame  was  playing 
Chopin's  polonaise.  He  laughed  silently.  He  was 


172 


in    Madame's    thoughts.     It   struck   him,   however, 
that  the  notes  had  a  defiant  ring. 

"Lights!"  called  Madame,  rising  from  the  stool. 

Immediately  a  servant  entered  with  candles  and 
retired.  Maurice,  when  his  eyes  had  grown  ac- 
customed to  the  lights,  scanned  the  three  faces. 
Madame's  was  radiant.  Fitzgerald's  was  a  mix- 
ture— a  comical  mixture — of  content  and  enjoy- 
ment, but  the  countess's  was  as  colorless  as  the 
wax  in  the  candlesticks.  He  asked  himself  what 
other  task  she  had  to  perform  that  she  should 
take  so  long  to  recover  her  roses.  Had  the  knowl- 
edge of  her  recent  humiliation  been  too  much  for 
her? 

She  was  speaking  to  him.  "Monsieur,  will  you 
walk  with  me  in  the  park?  I  am  faint." 

"Are  you  ill,  countess?"  asked  Madame,  coming 
up  and  placing  her  hand  under  the  soft  round 
chin  of  the  other  and  striving  to  read  her  eyes. 

"Not  so  ill,  Madame,  that  a  breath  of  fresh  air 
will  not  revive  me."  When  they  had  gained  the 
park,  the  countess  said  to  Maurice:  "Monsieur,  I 
have  brought  you  here  to  tell  you  something.  I 
fear  that  your  friend  is  lost,  for  you  can  do  noth- 
ing." 

"Not  even  if  I  break  my  word?"  he  asked. 

"It  would  do  no  good." 

"Why?" 

"It  is  too  late,"  lowly.  "I  have  been  Madame's 
understudy  too  long  not  to  read.  Forgive  me.  I 
was  to  keep  you  apart;  I  have  done  so.  The  evil 
can  not  now  be  repaired.  Your  hope  is  that 
Madame  has  not  fully  considered  his  pride." 


THE    PUPPET     CKOWN         173 

"Has  she  any  regard  for  him?" 

"Sentiment? — love?"  She  uttered  a  short,  in- 
credulous laugh.  "Madame  has  brain,  not  heart. 
Could  a  woman  with  a  heart  plan  as  she  plans?" 

"Well,  let  us  not  talk  of  plots  and  plans;  let 
us  talk  of—" 

"Monsieur,  do  not  he  unkind.  I  have  asked 
your  forgiveness.  Let  us  not  talk;  let  us  be  silent 
and  listen  to  the  night;"  and  she  leaned  over  the 
terrace  balustrade. 

Maurice  floated.  As  he  leaned  beside  her  a 
strand  of  perfumed  hair  blew  across  his  nostrils. 
.  .  .  The  princess  was  at  best  a  dream.  It 
was  not  likely  that  he  ever  would  speak  to  her 
ngain.  The  princess  was  a  poem,  unlettered  and 
u  n  rhymed.  But  here,  close  to  him,  was  a  bit  of 
beautiful  material  prose.  The  hair  again  blew 
out  toward  him  and  he  moved  his  lips.  She 
heard  the  vague  sound  and  lifted  her  head. 

Far  away  came  the  call  of  the  sentry;  a  horse 
whinneyed  in  the  stables.  There  was  in  the  air 
the  odor  of  an  approaching  storm. 


CHAPTEK  XII 

WHOM  THE  GODS  DESTROY  AND  A  FEW  OTHERS 

Some  time  passed  before  Fitzgerald  became 
aware  of  Maurice's  departure.  When  he  saw  that 
he  and  Madame  were  alone,  he  said  nothing,  but 
pulled  all  the  quicker  at  his  clay.  He  wondered 
at  the  desire  which  suddenly  manifested  itself. 
Fly?  Why  should  he  fly?  The  beat  of  his  pulse 
answered  him.  .  .  .  What  a  fine  thing  it  was 
to  feel  the  presence  of  a  woman — a  woman 
like  this!  What  a  fine  thing  always  to  experi- 
ence the  content  derived  from  her  nearness ! 

He  looked  into  his  heart ;  there  was  no  animosity ; 
there  was  nothing  at  all  but  a  sense  of  grateful- 
ness. In  the  dreary  picture  of  his  life  there  was 
now  an  illumined  corner.  He  had  ceased  to 
blame  her;  she  was  doing  for  her  country  what 
he,  did  necessity  so  will,  would  do  for  his.  And 
after  all,  he  could  not  war  against  a  woman — a 
woman  like  this.  His  innate  chivalry  was  too 
deep-rooted. 

How  soft  her  voice  was !  The  color  of  her  hair 
and  eyes  followed  him  night  and  day.  Once  he 
had  been  on  the  verge  of  sounding  Maurice  in  re- 
gard to  Madame,  Maurice  was  so  learned  in  fem- 
174 


THE    PUPPET    CROWX         175 

ininities;  but  this  would  have  been  an  acknowl- 
edgment of  his  ignorance,  and  pride  closed  his 
mouth.  It  was  all  impossible,  but  then,  why  should 
he  return  to  his  loneliness  without  attempting  to 
find  some  one  to  share  it  with  him?  The  king 
was  safe;  his  duty  was  as  good  as  done;  his  con- 
science was  at  ease  in  that  direction.  He  needed 
not  love,  he  thought,  so  much  as  sympathy.  .  .  . 
Sympathy.  He  turned  over  the  word  in  his  mind 
as  a  gem  merchant  turns  over  in  his  hand  a  precious 
jewel.  Sympathy;  it  was  the  key  to  all  he  desired 
— woman's  sympathy.  There  was  nothing  but  ash 
in  the  bowl  of  his  pipe,  but  he  continued  to  puff. 

Madame  was  seated  at  the  piano  again,  idly 
thrumming  soft  minor  chords.  She  was  waiting 
for  him  to  speak;  she  wanted  to  test  his  voice, 
to  know  and  measure  its  emotion.  At  times  she 
turned  her  head  and  shot  a  sly  glance  at  him  as 
he  sat  there  musing.  There  was  a  wrinkle  of  con- 
tempt and  amusement  lurking  at  the  corners  of 
her  eyes.  Had  Maurice  been  there  he  would  have 
seen  it.  Fitzgerald  might  have  gazed  into  those 
eyes  until  doomsday,  and  never  have  seen  else  than 
their  gray  fathoms.  Minute  after  minute  passed, 
still  he  did  not  speak;  and  Madame  was  forced  to 
break  the  monotony.  She  was  not  sure  that  the 
countess  could  hold  Maurice  very  long. 

"Of  what  are  you  thinking,  Monsieur?"  she 
asked,  in  a  soft  key. 

He  started,  looked  up  and  laid  the  pipe  on  the 
sill.  "Frankly,  I  was  thinking  that  nothing  can 
be  gained  by  keeping  us  prisoners  here."  He  told 
the  lie  rather  diffidently. 


176         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

"Not  even  forgiveness?"  The  lids  of  the  gray 
eyes  drooped  and  the  music  ceased. 

"Forgiveness?  0,  there  is  nothing  to  forgive 
you;  it  is  only  your  mistress  I  can  not  forgive. 
On  the  contrary,  there  is  much  to  thank  you  for." 

"Still,  whatever  I  do  or  have  done  is  merel" 
in  accordance  with  her  Highness's  wishes." 

He  moved  uneasily.     "It  is  her  will,  not  yours." 

"Yes;  the  heart  of  Madame  Amerbach  is  supine 
to  the  brain  of  Madame  the  duchess."  She  rose 
and  moved  silently  to  the  window  and  peered  out. 
He  thought  her  to  be  star-gazing;  but  she  was  not. 
She  was  endeavoring  to  see  where  Maurice  and  the 
countess  were. 

"Madame,  shall  I  tell  you  a  secret?" 

"A  secret?  Tell  me,"  sitting  in  the  chair  next 
to  his. 

"This  has  been  the  pleasantest  week  I  have 
known  in  thirteen  years." 

"Then  you  forgive  me!"  Madame  was  not  only 
mistress  of  music  but  of  tones. 

"Yes." 

And  then,  out  of  the  fullness  of  his  lonely 
heart,  he  told  her  all  about  his  life,  its  empti- 
ness, its  deserts,  its  longings.  Each  sentence  was 
a  knife  placed  in  her  hands;  and  as  she  contem- 
plated his  honest  face  which  could  conceal  noth- 
ing, his  earnest  eyes  which  could  hide  nothing, 
Madame  was  conscious  of  a  vague  distrust  of  her- 
self. If  only  he  had  offered  to  fight,  she  thought. 
But  he  had  not;  instead,  he  was  giving  to  her  all 
his  weapons  of  defense. 


THE    PUPPET     CKOWN         177 

"Ah,  Monsieur,  you  do  wrong  to  forgive  me!" 
impulsively. 

He  smiled. 

"Why  should  you  be  friendly  to  me  when  I  rep- 
resent all  that  is  antagonistic  to  you?" 

"To  me  you  represent  only  a  beautiful  woman." 

"Ah;  you  have  been  taking  lessons  of  your 
friend."  * 

"He  is  a  good  teacher.  He  is  one  of  those  men 
whom  I  admire.  Women  have  never  mastered 
him.  He  knows  so  much  about  them." 

"Yes  ?"  a  flicker  in  her  eyes. 

"Beneath  all  his  banter  there  is  a  brave  heart. 
He  is  a  rare  man  who,  having  brain  and  heart  to 
guide,  follows  the  heart."  He  picked  up  the  pipe 
and  began  to  play  a  tattoo  on  the  sill.  "As  for 
me,  I  know  nothing  of  women,  save  what  I  have 
read  in  books,  and  save  that  I  have  been  too  long 
without  them." 

"And  you  have  gone  all  these  years  without 
knowing  what  it  is  to  love?"  To  a  man  less 
guileless,  this  question  would  not  have  been  in 
good  taste. 

Fitzgerald  was  silent;  he  dared  not  venture  an- 
other lie. 

"What !  you  are  silent  ?  Is  there,  after  all,  a 
woman  somewhere  in  your  life?" 

"Yes."  He  continued  to  tap  the  pipe.  His 
gaze  wandered  to  the  candles,  strayed  back  to  the 
window,  then  met  hers  steadfastly,  so  steadfastly 
that  she  could  not  resist.  She  was  annoyed. 

"Tell  me  about  her." 


178         THE    PUPPET     CEOWN 

"My  vocabulary  is  too  limited.  You  would 
laugh  at  me." 

"I?  No;  love  is  sacred."  She  had  boasted  to 
Maurice  that  she  was  without  conscience;  she  had 
only  smothered  it.  "Come;  is  she  beautiful?" 

"Yes."     These  questions  disturbed  him. 

"Certainly  she  must  be  worthy  or  you  would 
not  love  her.  She  is  rich?" 

"That  does  not  matter;  I  am."  He  was  wish- 
ing that  Maurice  would  hurry  back;  the  desire  to 
fly  was  returning. 

"And  she  rejected  you  and  sent  you  to  the 
army  ?" 

"She  has  not  rejected  me,  though  I  dare  say 
she  would,  had  I  the  presumption  to  ask  her." 

"A  faint  heart,  they  say — " 

"My  heart  is  not  faint;  it  is  my  tongue."  He 
rose  and  wandered  about  the  room.  Her  breath 
was  like  orris,  and  went  to  his  head  like  wine. 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,  "is  it  possible  that  you 
have  succumbed  to  the  charms  of  Madame  the 
countess  ?" 

He  laughed.  "One  may  admire  exquisite  bric- 
a-brac  without  loving  it." 

"Bric-a-brac !  Poor  Elsa  !"  and  Madame  laughed. 
"If  it  were  the  countess  I  could  aid  you." 

"Love  is  not  merchandise,  to  traffic  with." 

Madame's  cheeks  grew  warm.  Sometimes  the 
trick  of  fence  is  beaten  down  by  a  tyro's  stroke. 

"Eh,  bien,  since  it  is  not  the  countess — " 

He  came  toward  her  so  swiftly  that  instinc- 
tively she  rose  and  moved  to  the  opposite  side  of 
her  chair.  Something  in  his  face  caused  her  to 


THE     PUPPET    CROWN         179 

shiver.  She  had  no  time  to  analyze  its  meaning, 
but  she  knew  that  the  shiver  was  not  unmixed 
with  fear. 

"Madame,  in  God's  name,  do  not  play  with 
me  I"  he  cried. 

"Monsieur,  you  forget  yourself,"  for  the  mo- 
ment forgetting  her  part. 

"Yes,  there  is  no  self  in  my  thoughts  since  they 
are  all  of  you !  You  know  that  I  love  you.  Who 
could  resist  you?  Thirteen  years?  They  are  well 
wasted,  in  the  end  to  love  a  woman  like  you." 

Before  she  could  withdraw  her  hands  from  the 
top  of  the  chair  he  had  seized  them. 

"Monsieur,  release  me."     She  struggled  futilely. 

"I  love  you."  He  began  to  draw  her  from  be- 
hind the  chair. 

"Monsieur,  Monsieur !"  she  cried,  genuinely 
alarmed;  "do  not  forget  that  you  are  a  gentle- 
man." 

"I  am  not  a  gentleman  now;  I  am  a  man  who 
loves." 

Madame  was  now  aware  that  what  she  had 
aroused  could  not  be  subdued  by  angry  words. 

"Monsieur,  you  say  that  you  love  me;  do  not 
degrade  me  by  forcing  me  into  your  arms.  I  am 
a  woman,  and  weak,  and  you  are  hurting  me." 

He  let  go  her  hands,  and  they  stood  there, 
breathing  deeply  and  quickly.  But  for  her  it  was 
a  respite.  She  had  been  too  precipitate.  She 
brought  together  the  subtle  forces  of  her  mind. 
She  could  gain  nothing  by  force;  she  must  use 
cunning.  To  hold  him  at  arm's  length,  and  yet 
to  hold  him,  was  her  desire.  She  had  reckoned 


180 


on  wax;  a  man  stood  before  her.  All  at  once 
the  flutter  of  admiration  stirred  in  her  heart. 
She  was  a  soldier's  daughter,  the  daughter  of  a 
man  who  loved  strong  men.  And  this  man  was 
doubly  strong  because  he  was  fearless  and  honest. 
She  read  in  his  eyes  that  a  moment  more  and 
he  had  kissed  her,  a  thing  no  man  save  her  father 
had  ever  done. 

"0,  Monsieur,"  she  said  lightly,  "you  soldier- 
are  such  forward  lovers!  You  have  not  even  asked 
me  if  I  love  you."  He  made  a  move  to  regain 
her  hands.  "No,  no !"  darting  behind  the  chair. 
"You  must  not  take  my  hands;  you  do  not  realize 
how  strong  you  are.  I  am  not  sure  that  my  heart 
responds  to  yours." 

"Tell  me,  what  must  I  do?"  leaning  across  the 
chair. 

"You  must  have  patience.  A  woman  must  bf 
wooed  her  own  way,  or  not  at  all.  What  a  whirl- 
wind j'ou  are !" 

"I  would  to  heaven/'  with  a  gesture  indicative 
of  despair,  "that  you  had  kept  me  behind  bar.- 
and  closed  doors."  He  dropped  his  hands  from 
the  chair  and  sought  the  window,  leaning  his  arms 
against  the  central  frame. 

Madame  had  fully  recovered  her  composure. 
She  saw  her  way  to  the  end. 

"It  is  true,"  she  said,  "that  I  do  not  love  you; 
but  it  is  also  true  that  I  am  not  indifferent  to 
yon.  What  proof  have  I  that  you  really  love  mer 
None,  save  your  declaration;  and  that  is  not  suffi- 
cient for  a  woman  such  as  I  am.  Shall  I  place 


THE    PUPPET    CROWN         181 

my  life  in  your  hands  for  better  or  for  worse, 
simply  because  you  say  you  love  me?" 

"My  love  does  not  reason,  Madame." 

She  passed  over  this  stroke.  "I  do  not  know 
you;  it  is  not  less  than  natural  for  me  to  doubt 
you.  What  proof  have  I  that  your  declaration  of 
love  is  not  a  scheme  to  while  away  your  captivity 
at  my  expense?  My  heart  is  not  one  to  be  taken 
by  storm.  There  is  only  one  road  to  my  affec- 
tions; it  is  narrow.  Other  men  have  made  love 
to  me,  but  they  have  hesitated  to  enter  upon  this 
self-same  road." 

"Love  that  demands  conditions?  I  have  asked 
none." 

Madame  blushed.  "A  man  offers  love;  a  woman 
confers  it." 

"And  what  is  this  narrow  road  called  which 
leads  to  your  affections?  Is  your  heart  a  citadel?" 

"It  is  called  sacrifice.  Those  who  dwell  in  my 
heart,  which  you  call  a  citadel,  enter  by  that 
road." 

"Sacrifice?"  Fervor  lighted  his  face  again. 
"Do  you  wish  my  fortune?  It  is  yours.  My  life? 
It  is  yours.  Do  you  wish  me  to  lead  the  army  of 
the  duchess  into  Bleiberg?  It  shall  be  done. 
Sacrifice?  I  have  sacrificed  the  best  years  of 
youth  for  nothing;  my  life  has  been  made  up  of 
sacrifices." 

"Monsieur,  if  I  promised  to  listen  to  you  here- 
after, if  I  promised  a  heart  that  has  never 
known  the  love  of  man,  if  I  promised  lips  that 
have  never  known  the  lips  of  any  man  save  my 
father — "  She  moved  away  from  the  chair,  v.-'lhin 


182         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

an  arm's  length  of  him.  "If  I  promised  all  these 
without  reservation,  would  you  aid  me  to  give 
back  to  the  duchess  her  own?" 

Instantly  her  arms  were  pinioned  to  her  sides, 
and  he  had  drawn  her  so  close  that  she  could  feel 
his  heart  beat  against  her  own. 

"Have  no  fear/'  he  said.  The  voice  was  un- 
familiar to  her  ears.  "I  shall  not  kiss  you.  Let 
me  look  into  your  eyes,  Madame,  your  eyes,  and 
read  the  lie  which  is  written  there.  My  fortune 
and  my  life  are  not  enough.  Keep  your  love, 
Madame;  I  have  no  wish  to  purchase  it.  What! 
if  I  surrender  my  honor  it  is  agreed  that  you  sur- 
render yours?  A  love  such  as  mine  requires  a 
wife.  You  would  have  me  break  my  word  to  the 
dead  and  to  the  living,  and  you  expect  me  to  be- 
lieve in  your  promises !  Faugh !"  He  pushed  hef 
from  him,  and  resumed  his  stand  by  the  window. 

The  hate  of  a  thousand  ancestors  surged  into 
her  heart,  and  she  would  have  liked  to  kill  him. 
Mistress!  He  had  dared.  He  had  dared  to  speak 
to  her  as  no  other  man  living  or  dead  had  dared. 
And  he  lived.  All  that  was  tigerish  in  her  soul 
rose  to  the  surface;  only  the  thought  of  the  glit- 
tering goal  stayed  the  outburst.  She  had  yet  one 
weapon.  A  minute  went  by,  still  another;  silence. 
A  hand  was  laid  tremblingly  on  his  arm. 

"Forgive  me!  I  was  wrong.  Love  me,  love 
me,  if  you  must.  Keep  your  honor;  love  me  with, 
out  conditions.  I — "  She  stumbled  into  the 
chair,  covered  her  eyes  and  fell  to  weeping. 

Fitzgerald,  dumfounded  and  dismayed,  looked 
down  at  the  beautiful  head.  He  could  fight  angry 


THE    PUPPET     CKOWN         183 

words,  tempests  of  wrath — but  tears,  a  woman's 
^ears,  the  tears  of  the  woman  he  loved! 

"Madame/'  he  said  gently,  "do  you  love  me?" 

No  answer. 

"Madame,  for  God's  sake,  do  not  weep!  Do 
you  love  me?  If  you  love  me — if  you  love  me — " 

She  sprang  to  her  feet.  Once  again  she  experi- 
enced that  shiver;  again  her  conscience  stirred. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  said.  "But  this  I  may 
say:  your  honor,  which  you  hold  above  the  price 
of  a  woman's  love,  will  be  the  cause  of  bloodshed. 
Mothers  and  wives  and  sisters  will  execrate  your 
name,  brave  men  will  be  sacrificed  needlessly. 
What  are  the  Osians  to  you?  They  are  strangers. 
You  will  do  for  them,  and  uselessly,  what  you 
refuse  to  do  for  the  woman  you  profess  to  love. 
I  abhor  bloodshed.  Your  honor  is  the  offspring 
of  pride  and  egotism.  Can  you  not  see  the  in- 
evitable? War  will  be  declared.  You  can  Nnot 
help  Leopold;  but  you  can  save  him  the  degrada- 
tion of  being  expelled  from  his  throne  by  force 
of  arms.  The  army  of  the  duchess  is  true  to  its 
humblest  sword.  Can  you  say  that  for  the  army 
of  the  king?  Would  you  witness  the  devastation 
oi'  a  beautiful  city,  by  flame  and  sword? 

"Monsieur,  Austria  is  with  us,  and  she  will  abide 
with  us  whichever  way  we  move.  Austria,  Monsieur, 
which  is  Leopold's  sponsor.  And  this  Leopold,  is 
he  a  man  to  sit  upon  a  throne?  Is  he  a  king  in 
any  sense  of  the  word?  Would  a  king  submit  to 
such  ignominy  as  he  submits  to  without  striking  a 
blow?  Would  he  permit  his  ministers  to  over- 
ride him?  Would  he  permit  his  army  to  mur- 


184         THE     PUPPET     CEOWX 

mur,  his  agents  to  plunder,  his  people  to  laugh 
at  him,  if  he  possessed  one  kingly  attribute?  Xo, 
no!  If  you  were  king,  would  you  allow  these 
things?  No!  You  would  silence  all  murmurs, 
you  would  disgorge  your  agents,  you  would  throttle 
those  who  dared  to  laugh. 

"Put  yourself  in  the  duchess's  place.  All  these 
beautiful  lands  are  hers  by  right  of  succession ; 
is  she  wrong  to  desire  them?  What  does  she  wish 
to  accomplish  ?  She  wishes  to  join  the  kingdom  and 
the  duchy,  and  to  make  a  great  kingdom,  as  it 
formerly  was.  Do  you  know  why  Leopold  was 
seated  upon  the  throne  ? 

"Some  day  the  confederation  will  decide  to  divide 
all  these  lands  into  tidbits,  and  there  will  be  no 
one  to  oppose  them.  Madame  the  duchess  wishes 
to  be  strong  enough  to  prevent  it.  And  you,  Mon- 
sieur, are  the  grain  of  sand  which  stops  all  this, 
you  and  your  pride.  Not  even  a  woman's  love — 
There,  I  have  said  it ! — not  even  a  woman's  love — 
will  move  your  sense  of  justice.  Go!  leave  me. 
Since  my  love  is  nothing,  since  the  sacrifice  I  make 
is  useless,  go ;  you  are  free !"  The  tears  which 
came  into  her  eyes  this  time  were  genuine;  tears 
of  chagrin,  vexation,  and  of  a  third  sensation 
which  still  remained  a  mystery  to  her. 

To  him,  as  she  spoke,  with  her  wonderful  eyes 
flashing,  a  rich  color  suffusing  her  cheeks  and 
throat  and  temples,  the  dim  candle  light  breaking 
against  the  ruddy  hair;  honor  or  pride,  whichever 
it  was,  was  well  worth  the  losing.  He  was  a  man ; 
it  is  only  the  pope  who  is  said  to  be  infallible. 
His  honor  could  not  save  the  king.  All  she  had 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         185 

said  was  true.  If  he  held  to  his  word  there  would 
be  war  and  bloodshed. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  he  surrendered,  less  harm 
would  befall  the  king,  and  the  loss  of  his  honor 
— was  it  honor? — would  be  well  recompensed  for 
the  remainder  of  his  days  by  the  love  of  this 
woman.  His  long  years  of  loneliness  came  back; 
he  wavered.  He  glanced  first  at  her,  then  at  the 
door;  one  represented  all  that  was  desirable  in  the 
world,  the  other  more  loneliness,  coupled  with  un- 
utterable regret.  Still  he  wavered,  and  finally  he 
fell. 

"Madame,  will  you  be  my  wife?" 

"Yes."  And  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  word 
came  to  her  lips  by  no  volition  of  hers.  As  she 
had  grown  red  but  a  moment  gone,  she  now  grew 
correspondingly  pale,  and  her  limbs  shook.  She 
had  irrevocably  committed  herself.  "No,  no!"  as 
she  saw  him  start  forward  with  outstretched  arms, 
"not  my  lips  till  I  am  your  wife!  Not  my  lips; 
only  my  hands!" 

He  covered  them  with  kisses. 

"Hash!"  as  she  stepped  back. 

It  was  time.  Maurice  and  the  countess  entered 
the  room.  Maurice  glanced  from  Madame  to  Fitz- 
gerald and  back  to  Madame;  he  frowned.  The 
Englishman,  who  had  never  before  had  cause  to 
dissemble,  caught  up  his  pipe  and  fumbled  it. 
This  act  merely  discovered  his  embarrassment  to 
the  keen  eyes  of  his  friend.  He  had  forgotten  all 
about  Maurice.  What  would  he  say?  Maurice 
was  something  like  a  conscience  to  him,  and  his 
heart  grew  troubled. 


186         THE     PUPPET     C  E  0  W  27 

"Madame,"  Maurice  whispered  to  the  countess, 
"I  have  lost  all  faith  in  you;  you  have  kept  me 
too  long  under  the  stars." 

"Confidences?"  said  Madame,  with  a  swift  in- 
quiring glance  at  the  countess. 

"0,  no,"  said  Maurice.  "I  simply  complained 
that  Madame  the  countess  had  kept  me  too  long 
under  the  stars.  But  here  is  Colonel  Mollendorf, 
freshly  returned  from  Brunnstadt  to  inform  you 
that  the  army  is  fully  prepared  for  any  emergency. 
Is  not  that  true,  Colonel?"  as  he  beheld  that  in- 
dividual standing  in  the  doorway. 

"Yes ;  but  how  the  deuce — your  pardon,  ladies ! 
— did  you  find  that  out?"  demanded  the  Colonel. 

"I  guessed  it,"  was  the  answer.  "But  there  will 
be  no  need  of  an  army  now.  Come,  John,  the 
Colonel,  who  is  no  relative  of  the  king's  minister 
of  police,  has  not  the  trick  of  concealing  his  im- 
patience. He  has  something  important  to  say  to 
Madame,  and  we  are  in  the  way.  Come  along, 
^Eneas,  follow  your  faithful  Achates;  Thalia  has 
a  rehearsal." 

Fitzgerald  thrust  his  pipe  into  a  pocket.  "Good 
night,  Madame,"  he  said  diffidently;  "and  you, 
countess." 

"Good  night,  Colonel,"  sang  out  Maurice  over 
his  shoulder,  and  together  the  pair  climbed  the 
stairs. 

Fitzgerald  was  at  a  loss  how  to  begin,  for 
something  told  him  that  Maurice  would  demand 
an  explanation,  though  the  affair  was  none  of  his 
concern.  He  filled  his  pipe,  fired  it  and  tramped 
about  the  room.  Sometimes  he  picked  up  the  end 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         187 

of  a  window  curtain  and  felt  of  it;  sometimes  he 
posed  before  one  of  the  landscape  oils. 

"You  have  something  on  your  mind,"  said 
Maurice,  pulling  off  his  hussar  jacket  and  kicking 
it  across  the  room. 

"Madame  has  promised  to  be  my  wife." 

"And  the  conditions  ?"  curtly. 

Fitzgerald  pondered  over  the  other's  lack  of 
surprise.  "What  would  you  do  if  you  loved  a 
woman  and  she  promised  to  be  your  wife?" 

"I'd  marry  her,"  sitting  down  at  the  table. 

"What  would  you  do  in  my  place,  and  Madame 
had  promised  to  marry  you?"  puffing  quickly. 

"I'd  marry  her,"  answered  Maurice,  banging  his 
fist  on  the  table,  "even  if  all  the  kings  and  queens 
of  Europe  rose  up  against  me.  I  would  marry 
her,  if  I  had  to  bind  her  hands  and  feet  and  carry 
her  to  the  altar  and  force  the  priest  at  the  point 
of  a  pistol,  which,  in  all  probability,  is  what  you 
will  have  to  do." 

"I  love  her,"  sullenly. 

"Do  you  know  who  she  is?" 

"No." 

"Would  it  make  any  difference?" 

"No.     Who  is  she?" 

"She  is  a  woman  without  conscience;  she  is  a 
woman  who,  to  gain  her  miserable  ends,  will  stop 
neither  at  falsehood,  deceit  nor  bloodshed.  Do 
you  want  me  to  tell  you  more?  She  is — 

"Maurice,  tell  me  nothing  which  will  cause  me 
ro  regret  your  friendship.  I  love  her;  she  haf 
promised  to  be  my  wife." 

•"She  will  ruin  you." 


188         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

"She  has  already  done  that,"  laconically. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me — " 

"Yes!  For  the  promise  of  her  love  I  am  dis- 
honored. For  the  privilege  of  kissing  her  lips  I 
have  sold  my  honor.  To  call  her  mine,  I  would 
go  through  hell.  God!  do  you  know  what  it  is 
to  be  lonely,  to  starve  in  God-forsaken  lands,  to 
dream  of  women,  to  long  for  them?" 

"And  the  poor  paralytic  king?" 

"What  is  he  to  me?" 

"And  your  father?" 

"What  are  my  dead  father's  wishes?  Maurice, 
I  am  mad !" 

"You  are  a  very  sick  man,"  Maurice  replied 
crossly.  "What's  to  become  of  all  these  vows — : 

"You  are  wasting  your  breath !  Do  you  re- 
member what  Eochefoucauld  said  of  Madame  de 
Longueville? — 'To  win  her  heart,  to  delight  her 
beautiful  eyes,  I  have  taken  up  arms  against  the 
king;  I  would  have  done  the  same  against  the 
gods !'  Is  she  not  worth  it  all  ?"  with  a  gesture 
of  his  arms  which  sent  the  live  coals  of  his  pipe 
comet-like  across  the  intervening  space.  "Is  she 
not  worth  it  all?" 

"Who? — Madame  de  Longueville?  I  thought 
she  was  dead  these  two  hundred  years !" 

"Damn  it,  Maurice !" 

"I  will,  if  you  say  so.  The  situation  is  equal 
to  a  good  deal  of  plain,  honest  damning."  Maurice 
banged  his  fist  again.  "John,  sit  down  and  listen 
to  me.  I'll  not  sit  still  and  see  you  made  a  fool. 
Promises?  This  woman  will  keep  none.  When 
she  has  wrung  you  dry  she  will  fling  you  aside. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         189 

At  this  moment  she  is  probably  laughing  behind 
your  back.  You  were  brought  here  for  this  pur- 
pose. Threats  and  bribes  were  without  effect. 
Love  might  accomplish  what  the  other  two  had 
failed  to  do.  You  know  little  of  the  ways  of  the 
world.  Do  you  know  that  this  house  party  is  scan- 
dalous, for  all  its  innocence?  Do  you  know  that 
Madame's  name  would  be  a  byword  were  it  known 
that  we  have  been  here  more  than  two  weeks,  alone 
with  two  women?  Who  but  a  woman  that  feels 
herself  above  convention  would  dare  offer  this 
affront  to  society?  Do  you  know  why  Madame  the 
countess  came?  Company  for  Madame?  No;  she 
was  to  play  make  love  to  me  to  keep  me  out  of 
the  way.  Ass  that  1  was,  I  never  suspected  till 
too  late  !  Madame's  name  is  not  Sylvia  Amerbach ; 
it  is— ' 

The  door  opened  unceremoniously  and  in  walked 
the  Colonel. 

"Your  voices  are  rather  high,  gentlemen,"  he 
said  calmly,  and  sat  down  in  an  easy  chair. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

BEING   OF    COMPLICATIONS    NOT   RECKONED   ON 

Maurice  leaped  to  his  feet,  a  menace  in  his 
eyes.  The  Colonel  crossed  his  legs,  rested  his 
hands  on  the  hilt  of  his  saber,  and  smiled. 

"I  could  not  resist  the  desire  to  have  a  friendly 
chat  with  you." 

"You  have  come  cursed  inopportune,"  snarled 
Maurice.  "What  do  you  want?" 

"I  want  to  give  you  the  countersigns,  so  that 
when  you  start  for  Bleiberg  to-morrow  morning 
you'll  have  no  trouble." 

"Bleiberg !"  -exclaimed  Maurice. 

"Bleiberg.  Madame  desires  me  to  say  to  you 
that  you  are  to  start  for  that  city  in  the  morning, 
to  fetch  those  slips  of  parchment  which  have 
caused  us  all  these  years  of  worry.  Ah,  my 
friend,"  to  Fitzgerald,  "Madame  would  be  cheap 
at  twenty  millions!  You  sly  dog!  And  I  never 
suspected  it." 

Fitzgerald  sent  him  a  scowl.  "'You  are  damned 
impertinent,  sir." 

"Impertinent?"  The  Colonel  uncrossed  his  legs 
and  brought  his  knees  together.  "Madame  has 
been  under  my  care  since  she  was  -?  child,  Moi>- 
190 


THE    PUPPET    CROWN         191 

sieur;  I  have  a  fatherly  interest  in  her.  At  any 
rate,  I  am  glad  that  the  affair  is  at  an  end.  It 
was  very  noble  in  you.  If  I  had  had  my  way, 
though,  it  would  have  been  war,  pure  and  simple. 
I  left  the  duchess  in  Brunnstadt  this  morning;  she 
will  be  delighted  to  attend  the  wedding." 

"She  will  attend  it,"  said  Maurice,  grimly;  "but 
I  would  not  lay  odds  on  her  delight.  Colonel,  the 
devil  take  me  if  I  go  to  Bleiberg  on  any  such  er- 
rand." He  went  to  the  window  seat. 

The  Colonel  rose  and  followed  him.  "Pardon 
me,"  he  said  to  Fitzgerald,  who  did  not  feel  at  all 
complimented  by  Madame's  haste;  "a  few  words 
in  Monsieur  Carewe's  ear.  He  will  go  to  Blei- 
berg; he  will  be  glad  to  go."  He  bent  towards 
Maurice.  "Go  to  Bleiberg,  my  son.  A  word  to 
him  about  Madame,  and  off  you  go  to  Brunnstadt. 
Will  you  be  of  any  use  there?  I  think  not.  The 
little  countess  would  cry  out  her  pretty  eyes  if  she 
heard  that  you  were  languishing  in  the  city  prison 
at  Brunnstadt,  where  only  the  lowest  criminals 
are  confined.  Submit  gracefully,  that  is  to  say, 
like  a  soldier  against  whom  the  fortunes  of  war 
have  gone.  Go  to  Bleiberg." 

"I'll  go.  I  give  up."  It  was  not  the  threat 
which  brought  him  to  this  decision.  It  was  a 
vision  of  a  madonna-like  face.  "I'll  go,  John. 
Where  are  the  certificates?" 

"Between  the  mattresses  and  the  slats  of  my 
lit-d  you  will  find  a  gun  in  a  case.  The  certifi- 
cates are  in  the  barrels."  His  countenance  did  not 
express  any  particular  happiness;  the  lines  about 
his  mouth  were  sharper  than  usual. 


192         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

"The  devil!"  cried  the  Colonel;  "if  only  I  had 
known  that!"  He  laughed..  "Well,  I'll  leave  you. 
Six  o'clock — what's  this?"  as  he  stooped  and  picked 
up  Maurice's  cast-off  hussar  jacket. 

"I  was  about  to  use  it  as  a  door  mat,"  said 
Maurice,  who  was  in  a  nasty  humor.  That  Fitz- 
gerald had  surrendered  did  not  irritate  him  half 
so  much  as  the  thought  that  he  was  the  real  pup- 
pet. His  hands  were  tied,  he  could  not  act,  and 
he  was  one  that  loved  his  share  in  games. 

The  Colonel  reddened  under  his  tan.  "No;  I'll 
not  lose  my  temper,  though  this  is  cause  enough. 
Curse  me,  but  you  lack  courtesy.  This  is  my  uni- 
form, and  whatever  it  may  be  to  you  it  is  sacred 
to  me.  You  were  not  forced  into  it;  you  were  not 
compelled  to  wear  it.  What  would  you  do  if  a 
man  wore  your  uniform  and  flung  it  around  in 
this  manner?" 

"I'd  knock  him  down,"  Maurice  admitted.  "I 
apologize,  Colonel;  it  was  not  manly.  But  you 
must  make  allowances;  my  good  nature  has  suf- 
fered a  severe  strain.  I'll  get  into  my  own  clothes 
to-morrow  if  you  will  have  a  servant  sew  on  some 
buttons  and  mend  the  collar.  By  the  way,  who 
is  eating  three  meals  a  day  in  the  east  corridor  on 
the  third  floor?" 

Their  glances  fenced.  The  Colonel  rubbed  his 
mustache. 

"I  like  you,"  he  said;  "hang  me  if  I  don't.  But 
as  well  as  I  like  you,  I  would  not  give  a  denier 
for  your  life  if  you  were  found  in  that  self-same 
corridor.  The  sentinel  has  orders  to  shoot;  but 
don't  let  that  disturb  you;  you  will  know 


THE    PUPPET     GROWN'         1!' 5 

sooner  or  later.  It  is  better  to  wait  than  be  shot. 
A  horse  will  be  saddled  at  six.  You  will  find  it 
in  the  court.  The  countersigns  are  Weixel  and 
Arnoldt.  Good  luck  to  you." 

"The  same  to  you,"  rejoined  Maurice,  "only 
worse." 

The  Colonel's  departure  was  followed  by  a  period 
of  temporary  speechlessness.  Maurice  smoked  sev- 
eral "Khedives/'  while  Fitzgerald  emptied  two  or 
three  pipe-bowls. 

"You  seem  to  be  in  bad  odor,  Maurice,"  the 
latter  ventured. 

"In  more  ways  than  one.  Where,  in  heaven's 
name,  did  you  resurrect  that  pipe?" 

"In  the  stables.  It  isn't  the  pipe,  it's  the  to- 
bacco. I  had  to  break  up  some  cigars." 

Then  came  another  period  in  the  conversa- 
tion. It  occurred  to  both  that  something  yawned 
between  them — a  kind  of  abyss.  Out  of  this  abyss 
one  saw  his  guilt  arise.  ...  A  woman  stood 
at  his  side.  He  had  an  accomplice.  He  had  thrown 
the  die,  and  he  would  stand  stubbornly  to  it.  His 
pride  built  yet  another  wall  around  him,  impreg- 
nable either  to  protests  or  to  sneers.  He  loved — 
that  was  recompense  enough.  A  man  will  forgive 
himself  of  grave  sins  when  these  are  debtors  to 
his  love. 

As  for  the  other,  he  beheld  a  trust  betrayed, 
and  he  was  powerless  to  prevent  it.  Besides,  his 
self-love  smarted,  chagrin  made  eyes  at  him;  and, 
more  than  all  else,  he  recognized  his  own  share  in 
the  Englishman's  fall  from  grace.  It  had  been 
innocent  mischief  on  his  part,  true,  but  neverthe- 


194         THE     PUPPET    CRjWN 

less  he  stood  culpable.  He  had  no  business  to  talk 
to  a  woman  he  did  not  kLjw.  '.^he  more  he 
studied  the  aspects  of  the  situation  the  more 
whimsical  it  grew.  He  was  the  prime  cause  of  a 
king  losing  his  throne,  of  a  man  losing  his  honor, 
of  a  princess  becoming  an  outcast 

"Your  bride-elect/'  he  said,  "seems  somewhat 
over-hasty.  "Well,  I'm  off  to  bed." 

"Maurice,  can  you  blame  me?" 

"No,  John;  whom  the  gods  destroy  they  first 
make  mad.  You  will  come  to  your  senses  when 
it  is  too  late." 

"For   God's   sake,   Maurice,   who  is   she?" 

"What  will  you  do  if  she  breaks  her  promise?" 
adroitly  evading  the  question. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  He  emptied  the  ashes 
from  his  pipe,  and  rose;  all  that  was  aggres- 
sive came  into  his  face.  "I  will  bind  her  hands 
and  feet  and  carry  her  to  the  altar,  and  shoot  the 
priest  that  refuses  to  marry  us.  0  Maurice,  rest 
easy;  no  woman  lives  who  will  make  a  fool  of  me, 
and  laugh." 

"That's  comfort;"  and  Maurice  turned  in. 

This  night  it  was  the  Englishman  who  sat  up 
till  the  morning  hours.  Sylvia  Amerbach.  .  .  . 
A  fear  possessed  him.  If  it  should  be,  he  thought; 

if  it  should  be,  what  then? 

*•***« 

Midnight  in  Madame's  boudoir;  no  light  save 
that  which  streamed  rosily  from  the  coals  in  the 
grate.  The  countess  sat  with  her  slippered  feet 
upon  the  fender.  She  held  in  her  hand  a  screen, 


195 


and  if  any  thoughts  marked  her  face,  they  re- 
mained in  blurred  obscurity. 

"Heu!"  said  Madame  from  the  opposite  side; 
"it  is  all  over.  It  was  detestable.  I,  to  suffer 
this  humiliation!  Do  you  know  what  I  have  done? 
I  have  promised  to  be  his  wife !  His  wife,  I !  Is 
it  not  droll  ?"  There  was  a  surprising  absence  of 
mirth  in  the  low  laugh  which  followed. 

"1  trust  Madame  will  find  it  droll." 

"And  you?" 

"And  I,  Madame?" 

"Yes ;  did  you  not  bring  the  clown  to  your  feet  ?" 

"No,  Madame." 

"How  ?  You  did  not  have  the  joy  denied  me 
— of  laughing  in  his  face  ?" 

"No,  Madame."  With  each  answer  the  voice 
<^rew  lower. 

"Since  when  have  I  been  Madame  to  you?" 

"Since  to-day." 

Madame  reached  out  a  hand  and  pressed  down 
the  screen.  "Elsa,  what  is  it?" 

"What  is  what,  Madame?" 

"This  strange  mood  of  yours." 

Silence. 

"You  were  gay  enough  this  morning.  Tell 
me." 

"There  is  nothing  to  tell,  Madame,  save  that 
my  sacrifices  are  at  an  end.  I  have  nothing  left." 

"What !  You  forsake  me  when  the  end  is 
won  ?"  in  astonishment. 

"I  did  not  say  that  I  should  desert  you;  I  said 
that  1  had  no  more  sacrifices  to  make."  The 
:ountess  rose.  "For  your  sake,  Madame,  bocause 


196         THE    PUPPET    CROWN 

you  have  always  been  kind  to  me,  and  because  it 
is  impossible  not  to  love  you,  I  have  degraded 
myself.  I  have  pretended  to  love  a  man  who  saw 
through  the  artifice  and  told  me  so,  to  save  me 
further  shame.  0  Madame,  it  is  all  execrable! 

"And  you  will  use  this  love  which  you  have 
gained — this  first  love  of  a  man  who  has  known 
no  other  and  will  know  no  other  while  he  lives ! — 
to  bring  about  his  ruin  ?  This  other,  at  whose  head 
you  threw  me — beware  of  him.  He  is  light-hearted 
and  gay,  perhaps.  You  call  him '  a  clown ;  he  is 
cunning  and  brave;  and  unless  you  judge  him 
at  his  true  value,  your  fabric  of  schemes  will  fall 
ere  it  reaches  its  culmination.  Could  even  you 
trick  him  with  words?  No.  You  were  compelled 
to  use  force.  Is  he  not  handsome,  Madame?"  with 
a  feverish  gaiety.  "Is  there  a  gentleman  at  your 
court  who  is  a  more  perfect  cavalier?  Why,  he 
blushes  like  a  woman!  Is  there  in  your  court — " 
But  her  sentence  broke,  and  she  could  not  go  on. 

"Elsa,  are  you  mad?" 

"Yes,  Madame,  yes;  they  call  it  a  species  of 
madness."  Then,  with  a  sudden  gust  of  wrath: 
"Why  did  you  not  leave  me  in  peace?  You  have 
destroyed  me !  0,  the  shame  of  it !"  and  she  fled 
into  her  own  room. 

Madame  sat  motionless.  This,  among  other 
things,  she  had  not  reckoned  on. 

Only  the  troopers  and  the  servants  slept  in  peace 
that  night. 

Maurice  was  up  betimes  next  morning.  The 
hills  and  valleys  lay  under  a  mantle  of  sparkling 
rime,  and  the  very  air,  keen  of  edge  and  whistling, 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         197 

glistened  in  the  sunlight.  The  iron  shoes  of  the 
horses  beat  sharply  on  the  stone  flooring  of  the  court 
yard.  Maurice  examined  his  riding  furniture; 
pulled  at  the  saddle,  tugged  at  the  rein  buckles, 
lifted  the  leather  flaps  and  tried  the  stirrup  straps. 
It  was  not  that  he  doubted  the  ability  of  the 
groom;  it  was  because  this  particular  care  was  sec- 
ond nature  to  him. 

Fitzgerald  watched  him,  and  meditated.  Some 
of  his  thoughts  were  not  pleasant.  His  eyes  were 
heavy.  At  times  he  would  lift  his  shoulders  and 
permit  half  a  smile  to  flicker  over  his  lips;  a 
certain  thought  caused  this.  The  Colonel  sat 
astride  a  broad-chested  cavalry  horse,  spotless 
white.  He  was  going  to  accompany  Maurice  to 
the  frontier.  He  had  imbibed  the  exhilarating 
tonic  of  the  morning,  and  his  spirits  ran  high. 
At  length  Maurice  leaped  into  the  saddle,  caught 
the  stirrups  well,  and  signaled  to  the  Colonel  that 
he  was  ready. 

"You  understand,  Maurice?"  Fitzgerald  asked. 

"Yes,  John;  all  the  world  loves  a  lover.  Be- 
sides, it  is  a  glorious  morning  for  a  ride.  Up, 
portcullis,  down  drawbridge !"  waving  his  hand  to 
the  Colonel. 

And  away  they  went  through  the  gateway,  into 
the  frosted  road.  Maurice  felt  the  spirit  of  some 
medieval  ancestor  creep  into  his  veins  and  he 
longed  for  an  hour  of  the  feudal  days,  to  rescue 
a  princess  from  some  dungeon-keep  and  to  harry 
an  over-lord.  After  all,  she  was  a  wonderful 
woman,  and  Fitzgerald  was  only  a  man.  To  give 


198         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

up  all  for  the  love  of  woman  is  the  only  sacrifice 
a  man  can  make. 

"En  avant!"  cried  the  Colonel.  "A  fine  day,  a 
fine  day  for  the  house  of  Auersperg  I" 

"And  a  devilish  bad  one  for  the  houses  of  Fitz- 
gerald and  Carewe.  Woman's  ambition,  coupled 
with  her  deceit,  is  the  root  of  all  evil;  money  is 
simply  an  invention  of  man  to  protect  himself 
from  her  encroachments.  Eve  was  ambitious  and 
deceitful;  all  women  are  her  daughters.  When 
the  pages  of  history  grow  dull — " 

"Time  puts  a  maggot  in  my  lady's  brain,"  sup- 
plemented the  Colonel.  "It  is  like  a  row  of  dom- 
inoes. The  power  behind  the  throne,  the  woman 
behind  the  power;  an  impulse  moves  the  woman, 
and  lo !  how  they  clatter  down.  But  without 
woman,  history  would  be  poor  reading.  The 
greatest  battles  in  the  world,  could  we  but  see  be- 
hind, were  fought  for  women.  Men  are  but  foot- 
notes, and  unfortunately  history  is  made  up  of  foot- 
notes. But  it  is  a  fine  thing  to  be  a  footnote; 
that  is  my  ambition. 

"Ah,  if  you  but  knew  what  a  pleasure  it  is  for 
an  old  man  like  me  to  have  a  finger  in  the  game 
time  plays!  To  meddle  with  affairs,  directly  or 
indirectly!  Kingdoms  are  but  judy  shows,  kings 
and  queens  but  puppets;  but  we  who  pull  the 
strings — Ah,  that  is  it!  To  play  a  game  of  chess 
with  crowns!" 

"There  are  exceptions;  Madame  seems  to  hold 
the  strings  in  this  instance." 

"Madame  follows  my  advice  in  all  she  does." 

Maurice  opened  his  eyes  at  this  statement. 


THE     PUPPET    CROWN         199 

"Would  you  believe  an  old  man  like  me  could 
lay  such  a  train?  All  this  was  my  idea.  It  was 
difficult  to  get  Madame  to  agree  with  my  views. 
War?  I  am  not  afraid  of  it;  I  am  suspicious  of 
it.  One  day  your  friend  returned  a  personal  letter 
of  Madame's  having  written  across  it,  'I  laugh  at 
you.'  It  was  very  foolish.  No  man  laughs  at 
Madame  more  than  once.  She  will,  one  day,  re- 
turn this  letter  to  him.  A  crown,  a  fine  revenge, 
in  one  fell  swoop/' 

"She  will  ruin  him  utterly?" 

"Utterly." 

"Have  you  any  idea  what  sort  of  man  my 
friend  is?" 

"He  lacks  the  polish  of  a  man  of  affairs,  and 
he  surrenders  too  easily." 

"He  will  never  surrender — Madame." 

"How?" 

"You  remember  his  father;  he  will  prove  his 
father's  son,  every  inch  of  him.  0,  my  Colonel, 
the  curtain  has  only  risen.  One  fine  morning  your 
duchy  will  wake  up  without  a  duchess." 

"What  do  you  imply — an  abduction?"  The 
Colonel  laughed. 

"That  is  my  secret." 

"And  the  pretty  countess?"  banteringly. 

"It  was  rather  bad  taste  in  Madame*  It  was 
putting  love  and  patriotism  to  questionable  pur- 
poses. I  am  a  gentleman." 

"It  was  out  of  consideration  for  you;  Madame 
was  not  quite  sure  about  you.  But  you  are  right; 
all  of  it  has  rather  a  dark  shade.  You  may  rob 
a  man  of  his  valuables  and  give  them  back;  a 


200         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

broken  word  is  not  to  be  mended.  Why  did  you 
keep  the  hiding  place  so  secret?  I  could  have 
got  those  consols,  and  all  this  would  have  been 
avoided." 

"How  should  I  know  where  they  were?  It  was 
none  of  my  affair." 

"We  are  trusting  you;  I  might  have  gone  my- 
self. You  will  return  with  the  treasure.  Why 
have  I  not  asked  your  word?  Curiosity  will  bring 
you  back;  curiosity.  Besides  this,  you  have  an 
idea  that  with  your  presence  about,  a  flaw  in  the 
glass  may  be  found.  Yes,  you  will  be  back.  His- 
tory is  to  be  made;  when  you  are  old  you  will 
glance  at  the  page  and  say:  'Look  there;  rather 
a  pretty  bit,  eh?  Well,  I  helped  to  make  it;  in- 
deed, had  it  not  been  for  me  and  my  curiosity  it 
would  not  have  been  made  at  all.'  Above  all 
things,  do  not  stop  to  talk  to  veiled  women." 

There  was  a  chuckling  sound.  "I  say,  your 
Englishman  is  clever  now  and  then.  In  the  gun 
barrels!  Who  would  have  looked  for  them  there? 
But  why  did  he  come  himself?  Why  did  he  not 
trust  to  his  bankers?  Why  did  he  not  turn  over 
the  affair  to  his  representative,  the  British  minis- 
ter? There  were  a  hundred  ways  of  averting  the 
catastrophe.  Why  did  he  not  use  a  little  fore- 
thought when  he  knew  how  anxious  we  were  for 
his  distinguished  person  ?" 

"Why  does  the  moon  rise  at  night  and  the  sun 
at  dawn?  I  am  no  Cumaean  Sybil.  Perhaps 
it  is  the  impulse  which  moves  the  woman  behind 
the  power  behind  the  throne;  they  call  it  fate. 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWN         201 

Had  I  been  in  his  place  I  dare  say  I  should  have 
followed  his  footsteps." 

Not  long  after  they  arrived  at  the  frontier  where 
they  were  to  separate,  to  meet  again  under  condi- 
tions disagreeable  to  both.  The  Colonel  gave  him 
additional  instructions. 

"Go;  return  as  quickly  as  possible." 

"Never  fear;  I  should  not  like  to  miss  the  finale 
to  this  opera  bouffe." 

"Kail  on,  my  son;  call  it  by  any  name  you 
please,  only  do  not  interrupt  the  prompter;"  and 
with  this  the  Colonel  waved  him  an  adieu. 

Maurice  began  the  journey  through  the  moun- 
tain pass,  thinking  and  planning  and  scheming. 
However  he  looked  at  the  situation,  the  end  was 
the  same:  the  Osians  were  doomed.  If  he  him- 
self played  false  and  retained  the  certificates 
until  too  late  to  be  of  benefit  to  the  duchess, 
war  would  follow;  and  the  kingdom  would 
be  soundly  beaten.  .  .  .  Would  Prince  Fred- 
erick still  hold  to  his  agreement  and  marry  her 
Royal  Highness,  however  ill  the  fortunes  of  war 
fared?  There  was  a  swift  current  of  blood  to  his 
heart.  The  .Voiture-verse  of  a  countess  faded 
away.  .  .  .  Supposing  Prince  Frederick  with- 
drew his  claims  ?  Some  day  her  Highness  would  be 
free;  free,  without  title  or  money  or  shelter.  It 
was  a  wild  dream.  Was  there  not,  when  all  was 
said,  a  faint  hope  for  his  own  affairs  in  the  fall 
of  Fitzgerald? 

She  was  lonely,  friendless,  personally  known  to 
few.  Still,  she  would  be  an  Osian  princess  for  all 
her  misfortunes.  But  an  Osian  princess  was  not 


202         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

so  great  that  love  might  not  possess  her.  Without 
royalty  she  would  be  only  a  woman.  What 
would  Austria  do;  what  would  Austria  say?  If 
Austria  had  placed  Leopold  on  the  throne,  cer- 
tainly it  was  to  shut  out  the  house  of  Auersperg. 
And  who  was  this  man  Beauvais,  who 
served  one  houee  openly  and  another  under  the 
rose?  Where  had  he  met  him  before,  and  why 
did  the  thought  of  him  cause  unrest?  To  rescue 
her  somehow,  to  win  her  love,  to  see  the  glory  of 
the  world  light  the  heavens  in  her  eyes !  If  the 
dream  was  mad,  it  was  no  less  pleasant. 

He  was  a  commoner;  he  had  nothing  in  the 
world  but  his  brain  and  his  arm.  Fitzgerald,  now, 
possessed  a  famous  title  and  an  ancient  name. 
These  kings  and  princes  hereabout  could  boast  of 
but  little  more  than  he;  and  there  were  millions 
to  back  him.  He  could  dream  of  princesses  and 
still  be  sane.  Maurice  did  not  envy  the  English- 
man's riches,  but  he  coveted  his  right  of  way. 

How  often  had  he  indulged  in  vain  but  pleasant 
dreams!  Even  in  the  old  days  he  was  always  suc- 
coring some  proud  beauty  in  distress.  Sometimes 
it  was  at  sea,  sometimes  in  railroad  wrecks,  some- 
times in  the  heart  of  flames;  but  he  was  ever 
there,  like  a  guardian  angel.  It  was  never  the 
same  heroine,  but  that  did  not  matter;  she  was 
always  beautiful  and  rich,  high  placed  and  lov- 
able, and  he  never  failed  to  brush  aside  all  ob- 
stacles that  beset  the  path  to  the  church  door. 
He  had  dreamed  of  paladins,  and  here  at  last  was 
his  long-sought  opportunity— but  he  could  do 
nothing!  He  laughed.  How  many  such  romances 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         203 

lay  beneath  the  banter  and  jest  of  those  bald  bach- 
elor diplomat  friends  of  his?  Had  fate  reserved 
him  for  one  of  these? 

It  was  noon  when  he  entered  the  city  of  Blei- 
berg.  He  went  directly  to  his  hotel,  where  a  bath 
and  a  change  of  clothes  took  the  stiffness  from 
his  limbs.  He  was  in  no  great  hurry  to  go  to  the 
Grand  Hotel;  there  was  plenty  of  time.  Happily 
there  was  no  mail  for  him;  he  was  not  needed 
in  Vienna. 

At  two  o'clock  he  set  out  for  the  lower 
town.  On  the  way  he  picked  up  odd  ends  of 
news.  The  king  was  rapidly  sinking;  he  had  suf- 
fered another  stroke,  and  was  now  without  voice. 
There  was  unusual  activity  in  the  barracks.  The 
students  of  the  university  were  committing  mild 
depredations,  such  as  building  bonfires,  holding 
flambeau  processions,  and  breaking  windows  which 
contained  the  photographs  of  Prince  Frederick  of 
Carnavia,  who,  strangely  enough,  was  still  wrapt 
in  obscurity.  When  Maurice  entered  the  Grand 
Hotel  he  looked  casually  among  the  porters,  but  the 
round-faced  one  was  missing.  He  approached  the 
desk.  The  proprietor  did  not  recognize  him. 

"No,  my  friend,"  said  Maurice,  affably,  as  a  vis- 
itors' book  was  pushed  forward,  "I  am  not  going 
to  sign.  Instead,  I  wish  to  ask  a  favor.  A  week 
ago  a  party  of  the  king's  troopers  met  up-stairs." 

The  proprietor  showed  signs  of  returning  mem- 
ory, together  with  a  strange  agitation. 

"There  was  a  slight  disturbance,"  went  on 
Maurice,  still  using  the  affable  tone.  "Herr — ah — 
Hamilton,  I  believe — " 


204 


The  proprietor  grew  limp  and  yellow.  "I — I  do 
not  know  where  he  is." 

"I  do,"  replied  Maurice.  "Don't  you  recognize 
me?  Have  I  changed  so  since  I  came  here  to 
doctor  a  sprained  ankle?" 

"You? —  Before  God,  Herr,  I  was  helpless;  I 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it !"  terrified  at  the  pecu- 
liar smile  of  the  victim. 

"The  key  to  this  gentleman's  room,"  was  the 
demand. 

i(T ?? 

"The  key,   and  be  quick  about  it." 
The    key   came    forth.     "You   will    say   nothing, 
Herr;  it  would  ruin  my  business.     It  was  a  police 
affair." 

"Has  any  one  been  in  this  room  since?" 
"No,  Herr;  the  key  has  been  in  my  pocket." 
"Where  is  the  porter  who  brought  me  here?" 
"He  was  not  a  porter;  lie  was  with  the  police." 
Maurice    passed    up    the    stairs.     He    found    the 
room  in  disorder,  but  a  disorder  rather  familiar  to 
his  eyes.     He  had  been  the  cause   of  most   of  it. 
Here   was   where   he   broke   the   baron's   arm    and 
thumped  three  others  on  the  head.     It  had  been  a 
good   fight.     Here   was   a  hole   in   the   wall   where 
one  of  the  empty  revolvers  had  gone — missing  the 
Colonel's  head  by  an  inch. 

There  was  a  smudge  on  the  carpet  made  by  the 
falling  candles.  He  saw  Fitzgerald's  pipe  and 
picked  it  up.  No;  the  chamber  maid  had  not 
yet  been  there.  He  went  over  to  the  bed,  stared 
at  it  and  shrugged.  He  raised  the  mattress. 
There  was  the  gun  case.  He  drew  it  forth  and 


THE    PUPPET     CBOWN         205 

took  out  the  gun,  not,  however,  without  a  twist  of 
his  nerves. 

Four  millions  of  crowns,  a  woman's  love,  the  fall 
of  one  dynasty  and  the  rise  of  another,  all  wadded 
in  those  innocent  looking  gun  barrels !  He  hesi- 
tated for  a  space,  then  unlocked  the  breech  and 
held  the  tubes  toward  the  window.  There  was 
nothing  in  the  barrels,  nothing  but  the  golden  sun- 
light, which  glinted  along  the  polished  steel. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
QUI  M'AIME,  AIME  MON  CHIEN 

On  making  this  discovery  Maurice  was  inclined 
to  declaim  in  that  vigorous  vocabulary  which  is 
taboo.  He  had  been  tricked.  He  was  no  longer 
needed  at  the  Red  Chateau.  Four  millions  in  a 
gun  barrel;  hoax  was  written  all  over  the  face  of 
it,  and  yet  he  had  been  as  unsuspicious  as  a  High- 
land gillie.  Madame  had  tricked  him;  the 
countess  had  tricked  him,  the  Colonel  and  Fitz- 
gerald. 

That  Madame  had  tricked  him  created  no  sur- 
prise; what  irritated  him  most  was  the  convic- 
tion that  Fitzgerald  was  laughing  in  his  sleeve, 
and  that  he  had  misjudged  the  Englishman's 
capacity  for  dissimulation.  Very  well.  He  threw 
the  gun  on  the  bed;  he  took  Fitzgerald's  pipe  from 
his  pocket  and  cast  it  after  the  gun,  and  with  a 
gesture  which  placed  all  the  contents  of  the  room 
under  the  ban  of  his  anathema,  he  strode  out  into 
the  corridor,  thence  to  the  office. 

Here    the    message    to    Madame    from    Beauvais 

flashed  back.     The  Colonel  of  the  royal  cuirassiers 

had  lied;  he  had  found  the  certificates.     But  still 

there  was  a  cloud  of  mystery;  to  what  use  could 

206 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         207 

Beauvais  put  them?       He  threw  the  key  to  the 
landlord. 

"You  lied  to  me  when  you  said  that  no  one  had 
entered  that  room,"  he  said. 

"0,  Herr,  I  told  you  that  no  one  but  the  police 
had  been  in  the  room  since  your  departure.  They 
made  a  search  the  next  morning.  Herr  Hamilton 
was  suspected  of  being  a  spy  of  the  duchy's.  I 
could  not  interfere  with  the  police." 

Maurice  saw  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  got 
from  the  landlord,  who  was  as  much  in  the  dark 
as  he.  He  passed  into  the  street  and  walked  with- 
out any  particular  end  in  view.  0,  he  would  re- 
turn to  the  Red  Chateau,  if  only  to  deliver  him- 
self of  the  picturesque  and  opinionated  address  on 
Madame.  Once  he  saw  his  reflection  in  a  window 
glass,  and  he  stopped  and  muttered  at  it. 

"Eli,  bien,  as  Madame  herself  says,  we  develop 
with  crises,  and  certainly  there  is  one  not  far  dis- 
tant. I  never  could  write  what  I  wish  to  say  to 
Madame;  I'll  go  back  to-morrow  morning." 

Situated  between  the  university  and  the  Grand 
Hotel  on  the  left  hand  side  of  the  Konigstrasse, 
east,  stood  an  historical  relic  of  the  days  when  Aus 
tria,  together  with  the  small  independent  states, 
strove  to  shake  off  the  Napoleonic  yoke.  In  those 
days  students  formed  secret  societies;  societies  full 
of  strange  ritual,  which  pushed  devotion  to  fanati- 
cism, which  stopped  at  nothing,  not  even  assassina- 
tion. To  exterminate  the  French,  to  regain  their 
ancestral  privileges,  to  rescue  their  country  from 
its  prostrate  humiliation,  many  sacrificed  their  lives 
and  their  fortunes. 


208         THE    ±-UPPLT    v,  R  0  W  N 

Napoleon  found  no  means  of  reaching  these 
pairiots,  for  they  could  not  be  purchased.  This 
Convinced  Napoleon  of  their  earnestness,  for 
he  could  buy  kings  and  princes.  The  students 
were  invisible,  implacable,  and  many  a  brilliant 
officer  of  the  imperial  guard  disappeared,  never  to 
return. 

This  historic  relic  of  the  Konigstrasse  had 
been  the  headquarters  of  one  of  the  branches 
of  these  numerous  societies;  and  the  students  still 
held  to  those  ancient  traditions.  But  men  and 
epochs  pass  swiftly;  only  the  inanimate  remain. 
This  temple  of  patriotism  is  simply  an  inn  to-day, 
owned  by  one  Stiller,  and  is  designated  by  those 
who  patronize  it  as  "Old  Stiiler's."  It  is  the  gather- 
ing place  of  the  students.  It  consists  of  a  hall  and 
a  garden,  the  one  facing  the  street,  the  other 
walled  in  at  the  rear. 

The  hall  is  made  of  common  stone,  bald  and 
unadorned  save  by  four  dingy  windows  and  a  tar- 
nished sign,  "Garten,"  which  hangs  obliquely  over 
the  entrance.  At  the  curb  stands  a  post  with 
three  lamps  pendant ;  but  these  are  never  lit  because 
Old  Stiller  can  keep  neither  wicks  nor  glass  be- 
yond the  reach  of  canes. 

Old  Stiller  was  well  versed  in  the  peculiarities  of 
students.  In  America  they  paint  statues ;  in  Austria 
they  create  darkness.  On  warm,  clear  nights  the 
students  rioted  in  the  garden;  when  it  rained, 
chairs  and  tables  were  carried  into  the  hall,  which 
contained  a  small  stage  and  a  square  gallery. 
Never  a  night  passed  without  its  animated  scene. 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         209 

iiere  it  was  that  the  evils  of  monarchical  systems 
were  discussed,  the  army  service,  the  lack  of  proper 
amusement,  the  restrictions  at  the  stage  entrance 
lo  the  opera;  here  it  was  that  they  concocted  their 
exploits,  fought  their  duels,  and  planned  means 
cf  outwitting  Old  Stiiler's  slate. 

Stiller  was  a  good  general;  he  could  keep  the 
students  in  order,  watch  his  assistants  draw  beer, 
the  Rhine  wine,  and  the  scum  (dregs  of  the  cask> 
muddy  and  strong),  and  eye  the  accumulating  ac- 
counts on  the  slate.  This  slate  was  wiped  out 
once  the  month;  that  is  to  say,  when  remittances 
came  from  home.  The  night  following  remit- 
tances was  a  glorious  one  both  to  Stiller  and  the 
students.  There  were  new  scars,  new  subjects  foi 
debate,  and  Stiller  got  rid  of  some  of  his  prime 
tokayer.  The  politics  of  the  students  was  social- 
ism, which  is  to  say  they  were  always  dissatisfied 
Tourists  seldom  repeated  their  visits  to  Stiiler's. 
There  was  too  much  spilling  of  beer  in  laps,  dump- 
ing of  pipe  ash  into  uncovered  steins,  and  knock- 
ing off  of  stiff  hats. 

It  was  in  front  of  Old  Stiiler's  that  Maurice 
came  to  a  pause.  He  had  heard  of  the  place  and 
the  praise  of  its  Hofbrau  and  Munich  beers.  He 
entered.  He  found  the  interior  dark  and  gloomy, 
though  outside  the  sun  shone  brilliantly.  He  or- 
dered a  stein  of  Hofbriiu,  and  carried  it  into  the 
main  hall,  which  was  just  off  the  bar-room.  It 
was  much  lighter  here,  <  hough  the  hall  had  the 
tawdry  appearance  of  a  theater  in  the  day-time; 
and  the  motes  swam  thickly  in  the  beams  of  sun- 


210         THE    PUPPET     C  R  0  W  X 

shine  which  entered  through  the  half-closed  shut- 
ters. It  was  only  at  night  that  Stiiler's  was  pre- 
sentable. 

Scarcely  a  dozen  men  sat  at  the  tables.  In 
one  corner  Maurice  saw  what  appeared  to  be  a  mar, 
asleep  on  his  arm?,  which  were  extended  the  width 
of  the  table.  It  was  the  cosiest  corner  in  the  hall, 
and  Maurice  decided  to  establish  himself  at  the 
other  side  of  the  table,  despite  the  present  incum- 
bent. Noiselessly  he  crossed  the  floor  and  sat 
down.  The  light  was  at  his  back,  leaving  his  face 
in  the  shadow,  but  shone  squarely  on  the  sleeper's 
head. 

"I  do  not  envy  his  headache  when  he  wakes  up," 
thought  Maurice.  He  had  detected  the  vinous  odor 
of  the  sleeper's  breath.  "These  headaches,  while 
they  last,  are  bad  things.  I  know:  I've  had  'em. 
I  wonder,"  lifting  the  stein  and  draining  it,  "who 
the  duffer  was  who  said  that  getting  drunk  was 
fun?  His  name  has  slipped  my  memor}';  no  mat- 
ter." He  set  down  the  stein  and  banged  the  lid. 

The  sleeper  stirred.  "Rich,"  he  murmured; 
"rich,  rich !  I'm  rich !  A  hundred  thousand 
crowns !" 

"My  friend,  I'm  not  in  the  position  to  dispute 
with  you  on  that  subject,"  said  Maurice,  smiling. 
He  rapped  the  stein  again. 

The  sleeper  raised  his  head  and  stared  stupidly 

"Kich,  aye,  rich !"  He  was  still  in  half  a  dream. 
"Rich,  I  say!" 

"Hang  it,  I'm  not  arguing  on  that,"  Maurice 
laughed. 

The  other  swung  upright  at  this,  his  round,  oily 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWN         211 

face  sodden,  his  black  eyes  blinking.  He  threw 
off  the  stupor  when  he  saw  that  it  was  a  man  and 
not  the  shadow  of  one. 

"Who  the  devil  are  you?"  he  asked,  thickly. 

Maurice  seldom  forgot  a  face.  He  recognized 
this  one.  "Oho !"  he  said,  "so  it's  you,  eh  ?  I  did 
not  expect  to  meet  you.  Happily  I  had  you  in 
mind.  You  are  not  employed  at  present  as  a  por- 
ter at  the  Grand  Hotel?  So  it  is  you,  my  mes- 
senger !" 

"Who  are  you  and  what  are  you  talking  about? 
I  don't  know  you." 

"Wait  a  moment  and  I'll  refresh  your  memory." 
Maurice  theatrically  thrust  a  cigar  between  his 
teeth  and  struck  a  match.  As  the  flame  illumined 
his  features  the  questioner  started.  "So  you  do 
not  recognize  me,  eh  ?  You  haven't  the  slightest 
remembrance  of  Herr  Hamilton  and  his  sprained 
ankle,  eh?  Sit  down  or  I'll  break  your  head  with 
this  stein,  you  police  spy!"  dropping  the  banter- 
ing tone. 

The  other  sat  down,  but  he  whistled  sharply; 
and  Maurice  saw  the  dozen  or  so  rise  from  the 
other  tables  and  come  hurriedly  in  his  direction. 
He  pushed  back  his  chair  and  rose,  his  teeth  firmly 
embedded  in  the  cigar,  and  waited. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Kopf?"  demanded  the  new- 
comers. 

"This  fellow  accuses  me  of  being  a  spy  and 
threatens  to  break  my  head." 

"0!  break  your  head,  is  it?  Let  us  see.  Come, 
brothers;  out  with  this  fellow." 

l 


212         THE     PUPPET     CEOWN 

Maurice  saw  that  they  were  about  to  charge  him, 
and  his  hand  went  to  his  hip  pocket  and  rested 
on  the  butt  of  the  revolver  which  the  Colonel  had 
given  him.  "Ger;Menien,"  he  said,  quietly,  "I  have 
no  discussion  with  you.  I  have  a  pistol  in  my 
pocket,  and  I'm  rather  handy  with  it.  I  desire  to 
talk  to  this  man,  and  talk  to  him  I  will.  Eeturu 
to  your  tables;  the  affair  doesn't  concern  you/' 

The  intended  assault  did  not  materialize.  They 
scowled,  bat  retired  a  few  paces.  They  saw  the 
movement  toward  the  hip  pocket,  and  they  noted 
the  foreign  twist  of  the  tongue.  Moreover,  they 
did  not  like  the  angle  of  the  speakers  jaws.  They 
shuffled,  looked  questioningly  at  one  another,  and, 
as  if  all  of  a  single  mind,  went  slowly  back  to 
their  chairs.  Kopf  grew  pale.  Indeed,  his  pallor 
was  out  of  all  proportion  with  the  affair,  which 
Maurice  took  to  be  no  more  than  a  comedy. 

"Brothers,"  he  said,  huskily,  "he  will  not  dare." 

"Don't  you  doubt  it  for  a  moment,"  interrupted 
Maurice,  taking  out  the  revolver  and  fondling  it. 
"Any  interference  will  mean  one  or  more  cases  for 
the  hospital.  Come,  I'm  not  the  police,"  to  Kopf. 
"I  am  not  going  to  hurt  you.  I  wish  only  to  ask 
you  a  few  questions,  which  is  my  right  after  what 
has  passed  between  us.  We'll  go  to  my  hotel, 
where  we  shan't  be  disturbed." 

Together  they  left  the  hall.  As  they  passed 
through  the  bar-room  Stiller  looked  questions,  but 
refrained  from  asking  them.  Maurice  put  away 
the  revolver.  As  they  went  out  into  the  street  h^ 
Kopf's  arm  within  his  own. 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  Johann,  savagely. 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         213 

"First.   What  is  your  place  in  this  affair  ?" 

"What  affair?" 

"The  abduction." 

"I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  Herr,  on  my  honor. 
I  was  only  a  porter,  and  I  supposed  my  errand  was 
in  good  faith." 

"How  about  the  gentle  push  you  gave  me  when 
the  door  opened?  My  friend,  I'm  no  infant.  Lies 
will  do  you  no  good.  I  know  everything,  and 
wish  only  to  verify.  You  are  a  police  spy,  in  the 
employ  of  the  duchess."  Maurice  felt  the  arm 
draw,  and  bore  down  on  it. 

"If  I  was,  do  you  suppose  I'd  fool  my  time  on 
this  side  of  the  Thalians?"  Johann  shrugged. 

"I'm  not  sure  about  that,"  said  Maurice,  puffing 
into  Johamrs  face.  "When  cabinet  ministers  play 
spy,  small  fry  like  you  will  not  cavil  at  the  occu- 
pation. And  you  are  not  in  their  pay?"  Johann 
glared.  "I  want  to  know,"  Maurice  went  on,  "what 
you  know;  what  you  know  of  Colonel  Beauvais, 
his  plans,  his  messengers  to  the  duchy,  what  is 
taking  place  underneath." 

Johann's  face  cleared  and  a  cunning  light 
brightened  his  eyes.  "If  that  is  all  you  are  after, 
I'll  tell  you.  I'm  a  spy  no  longer;  they  have  no 
more  use  for  me,  despite  their  promises.  I'll  play 
them  off  for  quits." 

"If  that's  all,"  repeated  Maurice,  "what  did  you 
think  I  wanted  to  ask  you?" 

Johann  bit  his  lip.  "I'm  wanted  badly  by  the 
chancellor,  curse  you,  if  you  must  know.  I  thought 
he  might  be  behind  you." 

"Don't  worry  about  that,"  said  Maurice,  to  whom 


214         THE    PUPPET     C  K  (MY  X 

this  declaration  seemed  plausible.  "We'll  talk  as 
we  go  along." 

And  Johann  loosened  his  tongue  and  poured 
into  Maurice's  ear  a  tale  which,  being  half  a 
truth,  had  all  the  semblance  of  straightforward- 
ness. What  he  played  for  was  time;  to  gain  time 
and  to  lull  his  captor's  suspicions.  Maurice  was 
not  familiar  with  the  lower  town;  Johann  was.  A 
few  yards  ahead  there  was  an  alley  he  knew,  and 
once  in  it  he  could  laugh  at  all  pursuit.  It 
might  be  added  that  if  Maurice  knew  but  little  of 
the  lower  town,  he  knew  still  less  about  Johann. 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  his  narrative,  Johann 
put  his  leg  stiffly  between  his  enemy's  and  gave  a 
mighty  jerk  with  his  arm,  with  the  result  that 
Maurice,  wholly  unprepared,  went  sprawling  to 
the  pavement.  He  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant, 
but  Johann  was  free  and  flying  up  the  alley. 
Maurice  gave  chase,  but  uselessly.  Johann  had 
disappeared.  The  alley  was  a  cul  de  sac,  but  was 
lined  with  doors;  and  these  Maurice  hammered  to 
ease  his  conscience.  No  one  answered.  Deeply 
disgusted  with  his  lack  of  caution,  Maurice  re- 
gained the  street,  where  he  brushed  the  dust  from 
his  knees. 

"I'll  take  it  out  of  his  hide  the  next  time  we 
meet.  He  wasn't  worth  the  trouble,  anyway." 

A  sybil  might  have  whispered  in  his  ear  that  a 
very  large  fish  had  escaped  his  net,  but  Maurice 
continued,  conscious  of  nothing  save  chagrin 
and  a  bruised  knee.  He  resumed  the  piecing  to- 
gether of  events,  or  rather  he  attempted  to;  very 
few  pieces  could  be  brought  together.  If  Beauvais 


THE     PUPPET     CEOWN         215 

had  the  certificates,  what  was  his  object  in  lying 
to  Madame?  What  benefit  would  accrue  to 
him?  After  all,  it  was  a  labyrinth  of  paths  which 
always  brought  him  up  to  the  beginning.  He 
drooped  his  shoulders  dejectedly.  There  was  noth- 
ing left  for  him  to  do  but  return  to  the  Eed 
Chateau  and  inform  them  of  the  fruitlessness  of 
his  errand.  He  would  start  on  the  morrow.  To- 
night he  wanted  once  more  to  hear  the  band,  to 
wander  about  the  park,  to  row  around  the  rear  of 
the  archbishop's  garden. 

"A  fine  thing  to  be  born  in  purple — sometimes," 
he  mused.  "I  never  knew  till  now  the  inconveni- 
ences of  the  common  mold." 

He  tramped  on,  building  chateaux  en  Espagne. 
That  they  tumbled  down  did  not  matter;  he  could 
rebuild  in  the  space  of  a  second,  and  each  castle 
an  improvement  on  its  predecessor. 

His  attention  was  suddenly  drawn  away  from 
this  idle  but  pleasant  pursuit.  In  a  side  street 
he  saw  twenty  or  thirty  students  surging  back 
and  forth,  laughing  and  shouting  and  jostling. 
In  the  center  of  this  swaying  mass  canes  rose  and 
fell.  It  was  a  fight,  and  as  he  loved  a  fight,  Mau- 
rice pressed  his  hat  firmly  on  his  head  and  veered 
into  the  side  street.  He  looked  around  guiltily, 
and  was  thankful  that  no  feminine  eyes  were  near 
to  offer  him  their  reproaches.  He  jostled  among 
the  outer  circle,  but  could  see  nothing.  He  stooped. 
Something  white  flashed  this  way  and  that,  accom- 
panied by  the  sound  of  low  growls.  A  dog  fight 
was  his  first  impression,  and  he  was  on  the  point 
of  leaving,  for,  while  he  secretly  enjoyed  the  sight 


216         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

of  two  physically  perfect  men  waging  battle,  he 
had  not  the  heart  to  see  two  brutes  pitted  against 
each  other,  goaded  on  by  brutes  of  a  lower  castn. 
But  even  as  he  turned  the  crowd  opened  and  closed, 
and  the  brief  picture  was  enough  for  him. 

Her  dog!  And  the  students  were  beating  it  be- 
cause they  knew  it  to  be  defenseless.  Her  dog! 
toothless  and  old,  who  could  not  hold  when 
his  jaws  closed  on  an  arm  or  leg,  but  who,  with 
that  indomitable  courage  of  his  race,  fought  on 
and  on,  hopelessly  and  stubbornly. 

He  was  covered  with  blood,  one  of  his  legs  was 
hurt,  but  still  the  spirit  burned.  It  was  cowardly. 
Maurice's  jaws  assumed  a  particularly  ferocious 
angle.  Her  dog !  Rage  choked  him.  With  an  oath 
he  flung  this  student  aside  and  that,  fought  his  way 
to  the  center.  A  burly  student,  armed  with  a  stout 
cane,  was  the  principal  aggressor. 

Maurice  doubled  his  fist  and  swung  a  blow 
which  had  one  hundred  and  sixty  pounds  behind 
it,  and  it  landed  squarely  on  the  cheek  of 
the  student,  who  dropped  face  downward  and  lay 
stilL  This  onslaught  was  so  sudden  and  unex- 
pected that  the  students  were  confounded.  But 
Maurice,  whose  plans  crystallized  in  moments  like 
these,  picked  up  the  cane  and  laid  it  about  him. 

The  students  swore  and  yelled  and  stumbled  over 
one  another  in  their  wild  efforts  to  dodge  the  vin- 
dictive cane.  Maurice  cleared  a  wide  circle.  The 
dog,  half  blinded  by  his  blood  and  not  fully  com- 
prehending this  new  phase  in  the  tide  of  events, 
lunged  at  Maurice,  who  nimbly  eluded  him. 
Finally  the  opportunity  came.  He  flung  the  cane 


TILE     PUPPET     CROWN         217 

into  the  yelling  pack,  with  his  left  arm  caught  the 
dog  about  the  middle,  and  leaped  back  into  the 
nearest  doorway.  The  muscles  of  his  left  arm 
were  sorely  tried;  the  dog  considered  his  part  in 
the  fray  by  no  means  ended,  and  he  tugged  and 
yelped  huskily.  With  his  right  hand  Maurice 
sought  his  revolver,  cocked  and  leveled  it.  There 
came  a  respite.  The  students  had  not  fully  re- 
covered from  their  surprise,  and  the  yells  sank  into 
murmurs. 

"You  curs!"  said  Maurice,  panting.  "Shame  on 
you !  and  an  old  dog  that  can't  defend  himself ! 
You  knew  he  had  no  teeth." 

"God  save  your  Excellency !"  laughed  a  student 
in  the  rear,  who  had  not  tasted  the  cane;  "you 
may  be  sure  we  knew  he  had  no  teeth  or  we 
wouldn't  have  risked  our  precious  calves.  Don't  let 
him  scare  you  with  the  popgun,  comrades.  At 
him,  my  brave  ones;  he  will  be  more  sport  than 
the  dog !  Down  with  the  Osians,  dogs,  followers 
and  all!" 

"Come  on,  then,"  said  Maurice,  whose  fighting 
blood  was  at  heat.  "Come  on,  if  you  think  it 
isn't  over.  There  are  six  bullets  in  this  popgun, 
and  I  don't  give  a  particular  damn  where  they  go. 
Come  on !" 

Whether  or  not  this  challenge  would  have  been 
accepted  remains  unwritten.  There  now  came  on 
the  air  the  welcome  sound  of  galloping  hoofs,  and 
presently  two  cuirassiers  wheeled  into  the  street. 
What  Maurice  had  left  undone  with  the  cane  the 
cuirassiers  completed  with  the  flat  of  their 
They  had  had  a  brush  with  the 


218         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

students  the  night  before,  and  they  went  at  them 
as  if  determined  to  take  both  interest  and  prin- 
cipal. The  students  dispersed  like  leaves  in  the 
wind — all  save  one.  He  rose  to  his  feet,  his 
hands  covering  his  jaw  and  a  dazed  expression  in 
his  eyes.  He  saw  Maurice  with  the  revolver,  the 
cuirassiers  with  their  sabers,  and  the  remnant  of 
his  army  flying  to  cover,  and  he  decided  to  follow 
their  example.  The  scene  had  changed  somewhat 
since  he  last  saw  it.  He  slunk  off  at  a  zigzag 
trot. 

One  of  the  cuirassiers  dismounted,  his  face  red 
from  his  exertions. 

"Eh?"  closely  scanning  Maurice's  white  face. 
"Well,  well!  is  it  you,  Monsieur  Carewe?" 

"Lieutenant  von   Hitter?"   cried   Maurice,   drop- 
ping the  dog,  who  by  now  had  grasped  the  mean- 
ing of  it  all.     "You  came  just  in  time !" 
They  shook  hands. 

"I'll  lay  odds  that  you  put  up  a  good  fight," 
the  Lieutenant  said,  pleasantly.  "Curse  these  stu- 
dents! If  I  had  my  way  I'd  coop  them  all  up  in 
their  pest-hole  of  a  university  and  blow  them  into 
eternity." 

"And  how  did  the  dog  come  in  this  part  of  the 
town?"  asked  Maurice,  picking  up  his  hat. 

"He  was  with  her  Eoyal  Highness.  This  is  char- 
ity afternoon.  She  drives  about  giving  alms  to  the 
poor,  and  when  she  enters  a  house  the  dog  stands 
at  the  entrance  to  await  her  return.  She  came 
out  of  another  door  and  forgot  the  dog.  Max 
there  remembered  him  only  when  we  were  several 
blocks  away.  A  dozen  or  so  of  those  rascally  stu- 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         219 

dents  stood  opposite  us  when  we  stopped  here.  It 
flashed  on  me  in  a  minute  why  the  dog  did  not 
follow  us.  And  we  came  back  at  a  cut,  leaving 
her  Highness  with  no  one  but  the  groom.  Max, 
take  the  dog  to  her  Highness,  and  tell  her  that  it 
i<?  Monsieur  Carewe  who  is  to  be  thanked." 

Maurice  blushed.  "Say  nothing  of  my  part  in 
the  fracas.  It  was  nothing  at  all." 

"Don't  be  modest,  my  friend,"  said  the  cuiras- 
sier, laughing,  while  his  comrade  dismounted,  took 
the  dog  under  his  arm,  and  made  off.  "This  is 
one  chance  in  a  lifetime.  Her  Eoyal  Highness  will 
insist  on  thanking  you  personally.  0,  I  know 
Mademoiselle's  caprices.  And  there's  your  h;)t, 
crushed  all  out  of  shape.  Truly,  you  are  unfor- 
tunate with  your  headgear." 

"It's  felt,"  said  Maurice,  slapping  it  against  his 
leg.  "No  harm  done  to  the  hat.  Well,  good  day 
to  you,  Lieutenant,  and  thanks.  I  must  be  off." 

"Nay,  nay !"  cried  the  Lieutenant.  "Wait  a  mo- 
ment. 'There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men,  which, 
taken  at  the  flood — '  How  does  that  line  go? 
I  was  educated  in  England  and  speak  English  as 
I  do  my  mother  tongue — 

"Won't  you  let  me  go?"  asked  Maurice.  "Look 
at  my  clothes." 

"You  ought  to  be  thankful  that  they  are  dry 
this  time.  Come;  you'll  have  a  good  story  to 
carry  back  to  Vienna.  Princesses  do  not  eat 
people." 

"No,"  said  Maurice. 

"Ye  gods,  listen  to  that!  One  would  think  by 
the  tone  of  your  voice  that  you  wished  they  did  t" 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN 


There  was  no  resisting  this  good  humor; 
and  Maurice  wanted  only  an  excuse  to  wait.  He 
sat  down  on  the  steps,  sucked  the  knuckles  of 
his  hand,  and  contemplated  the  grin  on  the  cuiras- 
sier's face. 

"I  like  you,"  said  the  Lieutenant;  "I  like  your 
sangfroid.  The  palace  is  a  devil  of  a  dull  place, 
and  a  new  face  is  a  positive  relief.  I  suppose  you 
know  that  affairs  here  are  bad;  no  honesty  any- 
where. Everybody  has  his  hands  tied.  The  stu- 
dents know  this,  and  do  as  they  please.  Think  of 
two  hundred  gendarmes  in  the  city,  and  an  affair 
like  this  takes  place  without  one  of  them  turning 
up ! 

"I  tell  you  frankly  that  it  is  all  I  can  do  to 
withhold  the  edge  of  my  saber  when  I  meet  those 
students.  Last  night  they  held  a  noisy  flambeau 
procession  around  the  Hohenstaufenplatz,  knowing 
full  well  that  the  king  had  had  another  stroke 
and  quiet  was  necessary.  They  would  have  waked 
the  dead.  I  have  an  idea  that  I  forgot  to  use 
the  flat  of  my  sword;  at  least,  the  hospital  report 
confirms  my  ^suspicions.  Ah,  here  comes  Max/'' 

"Her  Royal  Highness  desires  to  thank  Monsieur 
Carewe,  and  commands  that  he  be  brought  to  her 
carriage/' 

Lieutenant  .von  Mitter  smiled,  and  Maurice 
stood  up  and  brushed  himself.  The  troopers 
sprang  into  the  saddle  and  started  on  a  walk,  with 
Maurice  bringing  up  behind  on  foot.  The  thought 
of  meeting  the  princess,  together  with  his  recent 
exertions,  created  havoc  with  his  nerves.  When  he 
arrived  at  the  royal  carriage,  his  usual  coolness 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         221 

forsook  him.  He  fumbled  with  his  hat,  tongue- 
tied.  He  stood  in  the  Presence. 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  Voice,  "I  thank  you  with 
all  my  heart  for  your  gallant  service.  Poor,  poor 
dog!" 

"It  was  nothing,  your  Highness;  any  man  would 
have  done  the  same  thing."  The  red  in  the  wheel- 
spokes  bothered  his  eyes. 

"No,  no !  you  must  not  belittle  it." 

"If  it  had  not  been  for  Lieutenant  von  Mitter — " 

"Whither  were  you  going,  Monsieur  ?"  interrupted 
the  Voice. 

"Nowhere;  that  is,  I  was  going  toward  my  hotel." 

"The  Continental?" 

"Yes,  your  Highness." 

"Step  into  the  carriage,  Monsieur;"  the  Voice 
had  the  ring  of  command.  "I  will  put  you  down 
there.  It  is  the  least  that  I  can  do  to  show  my 
gratitude." 

"I — I  to  ride  with  your  Highness  ?"  he  stammered. 
"0,  no !  I — that  is — it  would  scarcely  be — " 

"You  are  not  afraid  of  me,  Monsieur?"  with  a 
smile  which,  though  it  had  a  bit  of  the  rogue  in  it, 
was  rather  sad.  She  moved  to  the  other  side  of 
the  seat  and  put  the  dog  on  the  rug  at  her  feet. 
"Perhaps  you  are  proud?  Well,  Monsieur,  I  too 
am  proud;  so  proud  that  I  promise  never  to  for- 
give you  if  you  refuse  to  gratify  my  wish." 

"I  was  no't  thinking  of  myself,  your  Highness, 
or  rather  I  was.  I  am  not  presentable.  Look  at 
me;  my  hat  is  out  of  shape,  my  clothes  dusty,  and 
I  dare  say  that  my  face  needs  washing." 

The  Presence  replied  to  this  remarkable  defense 


222         THE    PUPPET     CKOWN 

with  laughter,  laughter  in  which  Maurice  detect- 
ed an  undercurrent  of  bitterness. 

"Monsieur  Carewe,  you  are  not  acquainted  with 
affairs  in  Bleiberg,  or  you  would  know  that  I  am 
a  nobody.  When  I  pass  through  the  streets  I  at- 
tract little  attention,  I  receive  no  homage.  En- 
ter: I  command  it." 

"If  your  Highness  commands — " 

"I  do  command  it/'  imperiously.  "And  you 
would  have  pleased  me  more  fully  if  you  had  ac- 
cepted the  invitation  and  not  obeyed  the  com- 
mand." 

"I  withdraw  all  objections,"  he  said  hastily,  "and 
accept  the  invitation." 

"That  is  better,"  the  Voice  said. 

Maurice,  still  uncovered,  sat  down  »n  the  front 
seat. 

"Not  there,  Monsieur;  beside  me.  Etiquette 
does  not  permit  you  to  ride  in  front  of  me." 

As  he  took  the  vacant  place  beside  her  he  felt 
a  fire  in  his  cheeks.  The  Voice  and  Presence 
were  disquieting.  As  the  groom  touched  the 
horses,  Maurice  was  sensible  of  her  sleeve  against 
his,  and  he  drew  away.  The  Presence  appeared 
unmindful. 

"And  you  recognize  me?"   she  asked. 

"Yes,  your  Highness."  He  tried  to  remember 
what  he  had  said  to  her  that  day  in  the  arch- 
bishop's garden.  Two  or  three  things  came  back  and 
the  color  remounted  his  cheeks. 

"Have  you  forgotten  what  you   said   to  me?" 

"I   dare   say   I   was   impertinent,"   vaguely. 

"Ah,  you  have  forgotten,  then!" 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         223 

In  all  his  life  he  never  felt  so  ill  at  ease.  To 
what  did  she  refer?  That  he  would  be  proud  to 
be  her  friend?  That  if  the  princess  was  as  beau- 
tiful as  the  maid  he  could  pass  judgment? 

"Yes,  you  have  forgotten.  Do  you  not  remem- 
ber that  you  offered  to  be  my  friend?"  She  read 
him  through  and  through,  his  embarrassment,  the 
tell-tale  color  in  his  cheeks.  She  laughed,  and 
there  was  nothing  but  youth  in  the  laughter. 
"Certainly  you  are  afraid  of  me." 

"I  confess  I  am,"  he  said.  "I  can  not  remem- 
ber all  I  said  to  you." 

Suddenly  she,  too,  remembered  something,  and 
it  caused  the  red  of  the  rose  to  ripple  from  her 
throat  to  her  eyes.  "Poor  dog!  Not  that  they 
hated  him,  but  because  I  love  him !"  Tears  started 
to  her  eyes.  "See,  Monsieur  Carewe;  princesses 
are  human,  they  weep  and  they  love.  Poor  dog! 
My  playmate  and  my  friend.  But  for  you  they 
might  have  killed  him.  Tell  me  how  it  happened." 
She  knew,  but  she  wanted  to  hear  the  story  from 
his  own  lips. 

His  narrative  was  rather  disjointed,  and  he 
slipped  in  von  Mitter  as  many  times  as  possible, 
thinking  to  do  that  individual  a  good  turn.  Per- 
haps she  noticed  it,  for  at  intervals  she  smiled. 
During  the  telling  he  took  out  his  handkerchief, 
wiped  the  dog's  head  with  it,  and  wound  it  tightly 
about  the  injured  leg.  The  dog  knew;  he  wagged 
his  tail. 

How  handsome  and  brave,  she  thought,  as  she 
observed  the  face  in  profile.  Not  a  day  had 


224         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

passed  during  the  fortnight  gone  that  she  had 
not  conjured  up  some  feature  of  that  intel- 
ligent countenance;  sometimes  it  had  been  the  eyes, 
sometimes  the  chin  and  mouth.,  sometimes  -  the 
shapely  head.  It  was  wrong;  but  this  little  sin 
was  so  sweet.  She  had  never  expected  to  see  him 
again.  He  had  come  and  gone,  and  she  had  thought 
that  the  beginning  and  the  end.  Ah,  if  only  she 
were  not  a  princess !  If  only  some  hand  would 
sweep  aside  those  insurmountable  barriers  called 
birth  and  policy !  To  be  free,  to  be  the  mistress 
of  one's  heart,  one's  dreams,  one's  desires! 

"And  you  did  it  all  alone,"  she  said,  softly;  "all 
alone." 

"0,  I  had  the  advantage;  I  was  not  expected. 
It  was  all  over  before  they  knew  what  had  hap- 
pened." 

"And  you  had  the  courage  to  take  a  poor  dog's 
part?  Did  you  know  whose  dog  it  was?" 

"Yes,  your  Highness,  I  recognized  him." 

A  secret  gladness  stole  into  her  heart,  and  to 
cover  the  flame  which  again  rose  to  her  cheeks,  she 
bent  and  smoothed  the  dog's  head.  This  gave 
Maurice  an  opportunity  to  look  at  her.  What  a 
beautiful  being  she  was !  He  was  actually  sitting 
beside  her,  breathing  the  same  air,  listening  to  her 
voice.  She  exhaled  a  delicate  perfume  such  as 
incorporates  itself  in  persons  of  high  degree  and 
becomes  a  natural  emanation,  an  incense  vague  and 
indescribable.  He  felt  that  he  was  gazing  on  the 
culmination  of  youth,  beauty,  and  elegance.  .  . 
Yes,  Fitzgerald  was  right.  To  beggar  one's  self 


THE    PUPPET    CROWX         225 

for  love;  honor  and  life,  and  all  to  the  winds  if 
only  love  remained. 

Presently  she  straightened,  and  he  centered  his 
gaze  on  the  back  of  the  groom. 

"Monsieur,  place  your  hat  upon  your  head," 
smiling.  "We  have  entered  the  Strasse,  and  I 
should  not  like  to  embarrass  you  with  the  atten- 
tion of  the  citizens." 

He  put  on  his  hat.  The  impulse  came  to  tell 
her  all  that  he  knew  in  regard  to  the  kingdom's 
affairs;  but  his  voice  refused  its  offices.  Besides, 
it  was  too  late;  the  carriage  was  rolling  into  the 
Platz,  and  in  a  moment  more  it  drew  up  before 
the  terrace  of  the  Continental  Hotel.  Maurice 
stepped  out  and  bared  his  head. 

"This  evening,  Monsieur,  at  nine,  I  shall  expect 
to  see  you  at  the  archbishop's  reception  to  the 
corps  diplomatique."  A  hand  was  extended  toward 
him.  He  did  not  know  what  to  do  about  it.  "I 
am  offering  you  my  hand  to  kiss,  Monsieur  Carewe ; 
it  is  a  privilege  which  I  do  not  extend  to  all." 

As  he  touched  it  to  his  lips,  he  was  sure  that 
a  thousand  pairs  of  eyes  were  centered  on  him. 
The  truth  is,  there  were  less  than  one  hundred. 
It  was  the  first  time  in  many  months  that  the 
Crown  Princess  had  stopped  before  the  Continen- 
tal Hotel.  To  the  guests  it  was  an  event;  and 
some  even  went  as  far  as  to  whisper  that  the  hand- 
some young  man  was  Prince  Frederick,  incog- 
nito. 

"God  save  your  Eoyal  Highness,"  said  Maurice, 
at  loss  for  other  words.  He  released  her  hand 
and  stepped  back. 


226         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

"Until  this  evening,  then,  Monsieur;"  and  the 
royal  barouche  rolled  away. 

"Who  loves  me,  loves  my  dog,"  said  Maurice, 
as  he  sped  to  his  room. 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN   WHICH    FORTUNE   BECOMES    CARELESS    AND 
PRODIGAL 

On  the  night  prior  to  the  arrival  of  Maurice  in 
Bleiberg,  there  happened  various  things  of  mo- 
ment. 

At  midnight  the  chancellor  left  the  palace,  after 
having  witnessed  from  a  window  the  meeting  of 
the  cuirassiers  and  the  students,  and  sought  his 
bed;  but  his  sleep  was  burdened  with  troubled 
dreams.  The  clouds,  lowering  over  his  adminis- 
tration, thickened  and  darkened.  How  many  times 
had  he  contemplated  resigning  his  office,  only  to 
put  aside  the  thought  and  toil  on? 

Defeat  in  the  end  was  to  be  expected,  but  still 
there  was  ever  that  star  of  hope,  a  possible  turn 
in  affairs  which  would  carry  him  on  to  victory. 
Victory  is  all  the  sweeter  when  it  seems  impos- 
sible. Prince  Frederick  had  disappeared,  no  one 
knew  where,  the  peasant  girl  theory  could  no 
longer  be  harbored,  and  the  wedding  \vns  but  three 
days  hence.  The  Englishman  had  not  stepped 
above  the  horizon,  and  the  telegrams  to  the  four 
ends  of  the  world  returned  unanswered.  Thus, 
the  chancellor  stood  alone;  the  two  main  props 
227 


228         THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

were  gone  from  under.  As  he  tossed  on  his 
pillows  he  pondered  over  the  apparent  reticence 
and  indifference  of  the  archbishop. 

All  was  still  in  the  vicinity  of  the  palaces.  Sen- 
tinels paced  noiselessly  within  the  enclosures.  In 
the  royal  bedchamber  the  king  was  resting  quietly, 
and  near  by,  on  a  lounge,  the  state  physician 
dozed.  The  Captain  of  the  household  troop  of 
cuirassiers  nodded  in  the  ante-room. 

Only  the  archbishop  remained  awake.  He  sat 
in  his  chamber  and  wrote.  Now  and  then  he 
would  moisten  his  lips  with  watered  wine.  Some- 
times he  held  the  pen  in  midair,  and  peered  into 
the  shapeless  shadows  cast  by  the  tapers,  his  broad 
forehead  shining  and  deep  furrows  between  his 
eyes.  On,  on  he  wrote.  Perhaps  the  archbishop 
was  composing  additional  pages  to  his  memoirs, 
for  occasionally  his  thin  lips  relaxed  into  an  im- 
penetrable smile. 

There  was  little  quiet  in  the  lower  town, 
especially  in  the  locality  of  the  university.  Old 
Stuler*s  was  filled  with  smoke,  students  and  tu- 
mult. Ill  feeling  ran  high.  There  were  many 
damaged  heads,  for  the  cuirassiers  had  not  been 
niggard  with  their  sabers. 

A  student  walked  backward  and  forward  on  the 
stage,  waving  wildly  with  his  hands  to  command 
attention.  It  was  some  time  before  he  succeeded. 

"Fellow-students,  brothers  of  freedom  and  com- 
rades," he  began.  "All  this  must  come  to  an  end, 
and  that  at  once.  Our  personal  liberty  is  endan- 
gered. Our  rights  are  being  trodden  under  foot. 
Our  ancient  privileges  are  being  laughed  at.  It 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         229 

must  end."  This  declaration  was  greeted  by 
shouts,  sundry  clattering  of  pewter  lids  and  noisy 
rappings  of  earthenware  on  the  tables.  "Have 
we  no  rights  as  students?  Must  we  give  way  to  a 
handful  of  beggarly  mercenaries?  Must  we  sub- 
mit to  the  outlawing  of  our  customs  and  observ- 
ances ?  What !  We  must  not  parade  because  the 
king  does  not  like  to  be  disturbed?  And  who  are 
the  cuirassiers?"  Nobody  answered.  Nobody 
was  expected  to  answer.  "They  are  Frenchmen  of 
hated  memory — Swiss,  Prussians,  with  Austrian 
officers.  Are  we  or  are  we  not  an  independent 
state?  If  independent,  shall  we  stand  by  and  see 
our  personal  liberties  restricted  ?  No !  I  say  no ! 
"Let  us  petition  to  oust  these  vampires,  who  not 
only  rob  us  of  our  innocent  amusements,  but  who 
are  fed  by  our  taxes.  What  right  had  Austria  to 
dictate  our  politics?  What  right  had  she  to  dis- 
avow the  blood  and  give  us  these  Osians?  0,  my 
brothers,  where  are  the  days  of  Albrecht  III  of 
glorious  memory?  He  acknowledged  our  rights. 
He  was  our  lawful  sovereign.  He  understood  and 
loved  us."  This  burst  of  sentiment  was  slightly 
exaggerative,  if  the  history  of  that  monarch  is  to 
be  relied  on;  but  the  audience  was  mightily  pleased 
with  this  recollection.  It  served  to  add  to  their 
distemper  and  wrath  against  the  Osian  puppet. 
"And  where  are  our  own  soldiers,  the  soldiers  of 
the  kingdom  ?  Moldering  away  in  the  barracks,  un- 
noticed and  forgotten.  For  the  first  time  in  the 
history  of  the  country  foreigners  patrol  the  pal- 
aces. Our  soldiers  are  nobodies.  They  hold  no 
office  at  court  save  that  of  Marshal,  and  his  voice 


230 


is  naught.  Yet  the  brunt  of  the  soldier's  life  falls 
on  them.  They  watch  at  the  frontiers,  tireless  and 
vigilant,  while  the  mercenaries  riot  and  play. 
Brothers,  the  time  has  come  for  us  to  act.  The 
army  is  with  us,  and 'so  are  the  citizens.  Let  ours 
be  the  glory  of  touching  the  match.  We  are 
brave  and  competent.  We  are  drilled.  We  lack 
not  courage.  Let  us  secretly  arm  and  watch  for 
the  opportunity  to  strike  a  blow  for  our  rights. 
Confusion  to  the  Osians,  and  may  the  duchess 
soon  come  into  her  own!" 

He  jumped  from  the  stage,  and  another  took  his 
place;  the  haranguing  went  on.  The  orators  were 
serious  and  earnest;  they  believed  themselves  to  be 
patriots,  pure  and  simple,  when  in  truth  they  were 
experiencing  the  same  spirit  of  revolt  as  the  boy 
whose  mother  had  whipped  him  for  making  an 
unnecessary  noise,  or  stealing  into  the  buttery. 

While  the  excitement  was  at  its  height,  a  man, 
somewhat  older  than  the  majority  of  the  students, 
entered  the  bar-room  from  the  street,  and  lounged 
heavily  against  the  railing.  His  clothes  were 
soiled  and  wrinkled,  blue  circles  shadowed  his  eyes, 
which  were  of  dull  jet,  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
drooped  dejectedly,  and  his  oily  face,  covered 
with  red  stubble,  gave  evidences  of  a  prolonged  de- 
bauch. 

"Wine,  Stiller,  wine !"  he  called,  laying  down  a 
coin,  which  gleamed  dimly  yellow  in  the  opales- 
cent light.  "And  none  of  your  devilish  vinegars 
and  scums." 

Stiller  pounced  on  the  coin  and  rubbed  it  be- 
tween his  palms.  "Gold,  Johann,  gold?" 


THE     PUPPET     C  II  0  W  X         231 

"Aye,  gold;  and  the  last  of  a  pocketful,  curse 
it !  What's  this  noise  about  ?"  with  a  gesture 
toward  the  hall. 

"The  boys  were  in  the  Platz  and  had  a  brush 
with  those  damned  cuirassiers.  They'll  play  a 
harder  game  yet."  Stiller  always  took  sides  with 
the  students,  on  business  principles;  they  consti- 
tuted his  purse.  "Tokayer?" 

"No;  champagne.  Aye,  these  damned  cuiras- 
siers shall  play  a  hard  game  ere  the  week  is  done, 
or  my  name  is  not  Johann  Kopf.  They  kicked  me 
out  of  the  palace  grounds  yesterday ;  me,  me,  me  I" 
hammering  the  oak  with  his  fist. 

"Who?" 

"Von  Hitter,  the  English-bred  dog!  I'll  kill 
him  one  of  these  days.  Is  it  play  to-night,  or  are 
they  serious?"  nodding  again  toward  the  hall. 

"Go  in,"  said  Stiller,  "and  look  at  some  of  those 
heads ;  a  look  will  answer  the  purpose." 

Johann  followed  this  advice.  The  picture  he 
saw  was  one  which  agreed  with  the  idea  that  had 
come  into  his  mind.  He  returned  to  the  bar-room 
and  drank  his  wine  thirstily,  refilled  the  glass  and 
emptied  it.  Stiller  shook  his  head.  Johann  was 
in  a  bad  way  when  he  gulped  wine  instead  of 
sipping  it.  Yet  it  was  always  so  after  a  carouse. 

"Where  have  you  been  keeping  yourself  the  past 
week?"  he  asked.  If  the  students  were  his  purse, 
Johann  was  his  budget  of  news. 

"You  ask  that?"  surlily.  "You  knew  I  had 
money;  you  knew  that  I  was  off  somewhere  spend- 
ing it — God  knows  where,  I  don't.  Another  bottle 


232         THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

of  wine.  There's  enough  left  from  the  gold  to  pay 
for  it." 

Stiller  complied.  Johann's  thirst  seemed  in  no 
way  assuaged;  hut  soon  the  sullen  expression,  the 
aftermath  of  his  spree,  was  replaced  by  one  of 
reckless  jollity.  His  eyes  began  to  sparkle. 

"A  great  game,  Stiller;  they're  playing  a  great 
game,  and  you  and  I  will  be  in  at  the  reaping. 
The  town  is  quiet,  you  say?  The  troops  have 
ceased  murmuring,  eh?  A  lull  that  comes  before 
the  storm.  And  when  it  breaks — and  break  it 
will ! — gay  times  for  you  and  me.  There  will  be 
sacking.  I  have  the  list  of  those  who  lean  toward 
the  Osians.  There  will  be  loot,  old  war  dog !" 

Stiller  smiled  indulgently;  Johann  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  the  wine.  Perhaps  he  was  to  learn 
something.  "Yes,  'twill  be  a  glorious  day." 

"A  week  hence,  and  the  king  goes  forth  a  bank- 
rupt." 

"If  he  lives,"   judiciously. 

"Dead  or  alive,  it  matters  not  which;  he  goes." 

"And  the  wedding  ?  What  is  it  I  hear  about 
Prince  Frederick  and  the  peasant  girl?" 

Johann  laughed.     "There   will  be  no  wedding." 

"And  the  princess?" 

"A  pretty  morsel,  a  tidbit  for  the  king  that  is 
to  be." 

"The  king  that — eh,  Johann,  are  you  getting 
drunk  so  soon?"  Stiller  exclaimed.  "I  know  of 
no  king — " 

Johann  reached  over  and  caught  the  innkeeper's 
wrist.  The  grasp  was  no  gentle  one.  "Listen, 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         233 

that  was  a  slip  of  the  tongue.  Repeat 'it,  and  that 
for  your  life!  Do  you  understand,  my  friend?" 

"Gott  in—" 

"Do   you   understand?"   fiercely. 

"Yes,  yes !"  Stiller  wiped  his  face  with  his 
apron. 

"Good,  if  you  understand.  It  was  naught  but 
a  slip  of  the  tongue,"  nonchalantly.  "In  a  little 
week,  my  friend,  your  till  will  have  no  vulgar  sil- 
ver in  it;  gold,  yellow  gold." 

"And  the  duchess?"  with  hesitance.  The  budget 
of  news  to-night  was  not  of  the  usual  kind. 

Johann  did  not  answer,  save  by  a  shrug. 

The  perturbation  of  the  old  man  was  so  mani- 
festly beyond  control  that  he  could  not  trust  his 
legs.  He  dropped  on  the  stool,  giving  his  grizzled 
head  a  negative  shake.  "I  would  that  you  had 
made  no  slip  of  the  tongue,  Johann,"  he  mur- 
mured. "Gott,  what  is  going  on?  The  princess 
was  not  to  wed,  to  be  sure,  but  the  duchess  passed 
— a  king  besides — " 

"Silence !"  enjoined  Johann.  "Stiller,  I  am 
about  to  venture  on  a  daring  enterprise,  which,  if 
successful,  will  mean  plenty  of  gold.  Come  with 
me  into  your  private  office,  where  we  shall  not  be 
interrupted  nor  overheard."  He  vaulted  the  bar. 
Stiller  looked  undecided.  "Come!"  commanded 
Johann.  With  another  shake  of  his  head  Stiller 
took  down  the  tallow  dip,  unlocked  the  door,  and 
bade  Johann  pass  in.  He  caught  up  another  bot- 
tle and  glass  and  followed.  Without  a  word  he 
filled  the  glass  and  set  it  down  before  Johann,  who 
raised  it  and  drank,  his  beady  eyes  flashing  over  the 


234         THE     PUPPET     CBOWN 

rim  of  the  glass  and  compelling  the  innkeeper  to 
withdraw  his  gaze. 

"Well?"  said  Stiller,  uneasily. 

"I  need  you."  Johann  finished  his  glass  with 
moderate  slowness.  "Your  storehouse  on  the  lake 
is  empty?" 

"Yes,  but—" 

"I  shall  want  it,  two  nights  from  this,  in  case 
Madame  the  duchess  does  not  conquer  the  English- 
man. I  shall  want  two  fellows  who  will  ask  no 
questions,  but  who  will  follow  my  instructions  to 
the  letter.  It  is  an  abduction." 

"A  nasty  business,"  was  Stiiler's  comment. 
"You  have  women  to  thank  for  your  present  occu- 
pation, Johann." 

"Stiller,  you  are  a  fool.  It  is  not  a  woman;  it 
is  a  crown." 

"Eh?"     Stiiler's  eyes  bulged. 

"A  crown.  The  duchess  may  remain  a  duchess. 
Who  is  master  in  Bleiberg  to-day?  At  whose 
word  the  army  moves  or  stands?  At  whose  word 
the  Osians  fall  or  reign?  On  whom  does  the 
duchess  rely?  Who  is  king  in  deed,  if  not  in  fact? 
Who  will  find  means  to  liquidate  the  kingdom's 
indebtedness,  whoever  may  be  the  creditor  ?  Pah ! 
the  princess  may  marry,  but  the  groom  will  not  be 
Prince  Frederick.  The  man  she  will  marry  will 
be  the  husband  of  a  queen,  and  he  will  be  a  king 
behind  a  woman's  skirts.  It  is  what  the  French 
call  a  coup  d'etat.  She  will  be  glad  to  marry; 
there  is  no  alternative.  She  will  submit,  if  only 
that  her  father  may  die  in  peace." 

"And  this  king?"  in  a  whisper. 


235 


"You  are  old,  Stiller;  you  remember  many 
things  of  the  past.  Do  you  recollect  a  prince  of  a 
noble  Austrian  house  by  the  name  of  Walmoden, 
once  an  aide  to  the  emperor,  who  was  cashiered 
from  the  army  and  exiled  for  corresponding  with 
France  ?" 

Stiiler's  hand  shook  as  he  brushed  his  forehead. 
"YeSj  I  recollect.  He  fought  against  the  Prus- 
sians in  the  Franco-Prussian  war,  then  disappeared, 
to  be  heard  of  again  as  living  in  a  South  American 
republic.  But  what  has  he  to  do  with  all  this? 
Ah,  Johann,  this  is  deep  water." 

"For  those  who  have  not  learned  to  swim.  You 
will  aid  me?  A  thousand  crowns — two  hundred 
pieces  of  gold  like  that  which  has  just  passed  from 
my  pocket  into  yours.  It  is  politics." 

"But  the  sacking  of  the  town?" 

"A  jest.  If  Madame  the  duchess  conquers  the 
Englishman,  the  king  that  is  to  be  will  pay  her. 
Then,  if  she  wages  war  Austria  can  say  nothing 
for  defending  ourselves." 

"And  Walmoden?"  Stiller  struck  his  forehead 
with  his  fist  as  if  to  pound  it  into  a  state  of  lucid- 
ity. "Where  is  he?  It  is  a  stone  wall;  I  can  see 
nothing." 

"Beauvais." 

"Beauvais !"  Stiller  half  rose  from  his  chair, 
but  sank  again. 

"Exactly.  This  play,  for  some  reason  unex- 
plained, is  the  price  of  his  re-establishment  into 
the  graces  of  the  noble  Hapsburgs.  Between  us,  I 
think  the  prince  is  playing  a  game  for  himself. 
But  who  shall  blame  him?" 


236         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

"The  devil !  I  thought  Austria  was  very  favor- 
able to  the  Osian  house." 

"Favorable  or  not,  it  is  nothing  to  us." 

"Well,  well,  it's  a  thousand  crowns,"  philosoph- 
ically. 

"That's  the  sentiment,"  laughed  Johann.  "It 
is  not  high  treason,  it  is  not  Use  majeste;  it  is 
not  a  crime;  it  is  a  thousand  crowns.  Votre  sante, 
as  the  damned  French  say !"  swallowing  what  was 
left  of  the  wine.  "And  then,  it  is  purely  patriotic 
in  us,"  with  a  deceitful  smile. 

"The  storehouse  is  yours,  and  the  men.  Now 
tell  me  .how  'tis  to  be  played." 

"Where  does  her  Royal  Highness  go  each  Thurs- 
day evening,  accompanied  by  her  eternal  cuiras- 
siers, von  Mitter  and  Scharf enstein  ?" 

"Where  but  to  see  her  old  nurse  Elizabeth?  But 
two  men  will  not  be  enough.  Von  Mitter  and 
Scharf  enstein — " 

"Will  as  usual  remain  at  the  carriage.  But 
what's  to  prevent  the  men  from  gaining  en- 
trance by  the  rear? — carrying  off  her  Highness 
that  way,  passing  through  the  alley  and  making 
off,  to  be  a  mile  away  before  the  cuirassiers  even 
dream  of  the  attempt?" 

"After  all,  I'd  rather  the  duchess." 

"We  can  not  all  be  kings  and  queens."  Johann 
got  up  and  slapped  Stiller  familiarly  on  the  shoul- 
der. "Forget  not  the  gold,  the  yellow  gold;  little 
heaps  of  it  to  finger,  to  count,  and  to  spend." 

Stiiler's  eyes  gleamed  phosphorescently.  There 
was  the  strain  of  the  ancient  marauder  in  his 
veins;  gold  easily  gotten.  He  opened  the  door, 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         237 

and  Johann  passed  out,  swaying.  The  wine  was 
taking  hold  of  him.  He  turned  into  the  hall, 
while  Stiller  busied  himself  with  the  spigots.  Some 
one  discovered  the  spy,  and  called  him  by  name; 
it  was  caught  up  by  others,  and  there  were  numer- 
ous calls  for  a  speech. 

As  a  socialist  Johann  was  well  known  about 
the  lower  town.  Besides,  five  years  gone,  he 
himself  had  been  a  student  and  a  brother  of 
freedom.  He  had  fought  a  dozen  successful 
duels,  and  finally  had  been  expelled  from 
the  university  for  beating  a  professor  who  had  ob- 
jected to  his  conduct  in  the  presence  of  ladies. 
Other  ill  reports  added  to  his  popularity.  «To  be 
popular  in  this  whimsical  world  of  ours,  one  has 
either  to  be  very  good  or  very  bad.  Johann  was 
not  unwilling  to  speak.  Stiller  had  given  him  the 
cue;  the  cuirassiers.  His  advice  was  secretly  to 
arm  and  hold  in  readiness.  As  this  was  the  sub- 
stance of  the  other  speeches,  Johann  received  his 
meed  of  applause. 

"And  let  us  not  forget  the  bulldog;  let  us  kill 
him,  too,"  cried  one  of  the  auditors;  "the  prodi- 
gal bulldog,  who  has  lived  on  our  fatted  calves." 

This  was  unanimously  adopted.  The  bulldog 
was  not  understood;  and  he  smacked  of  the  Eng- 
lish. Then,  too,  the  bulldog  roamed  too  freely  in 
the  royal  enclosures;  and,  until  late  years,  trespass- 
ers fared  badly.  The  students  considered  that 
their  privileges  extended  everywhere;  the  dog,  not 
being  conversant  with  these  privileges,  took  that 
side  which  in  law  is  called  the  benefit  of  a  doubt. 


238         THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

After  his  speech  Johann  retired  to  the  bar-room. 
What  he  desired  most  of  all  was  a  replenished 
purse.  Popular  he  was;  but  the  students  knew  his 
failings,  among  which  stood  prominently  that  of 
a  forgetful  borrower.  They  would  buy  him  drinks, 
clothes  and  food,  if  need  be,  but  they  would  not 
lend  him  a  stiver.  And  he  could  not  borrow  from 
Stiller,  whose  law  was  only  to  trust.  Johann 
gambled,  and  wine  always  brought  back  the  mad 
fever  for  play.  The  night  before  he  had  lost 
rather  heavily,  and  he  wanted  to  recover  his  losses. 
Rouge-et-noir  had  pinched  him;  he  would  be  re- 
venged on  the  roulette.  All  day  long  combinations 
and  numbers  danced  before  his  eyes.  He  had  de- 
vised several  plans  by  which  to  raise  money,  but 
these  had  fallen  through.  Suddenly  he  smiled, 
and  beckoned  to  Stiller. 

"Stiller,  how  much  will  you  advance  me,'*  he 
asked,  "on  a  shotgun  worth  one  hundred  crowns?" 

"A  shotgun  worth  one  hundred  crowns?     Ten." 

Johann  made  a  negative  gesture.  "Fifty  or 
none.  You  can  sell  it  for  seventy-five  in  the  morn- 
ing. So  could  I,  only  I  want  the  money  to-night." 

"If  you  want  wine — "  began   Stiller. 

"I  want  money." 

Stiller  scratched  his  nose.  "Bring  the  gun  to 
me.  If  it  is  worth  what  you  say,  I'll  see  what  I 
can  do." 

"In  an  hour;"  and  Johann  went  out.  A  cold 
thin  rain  was  falling,  and  a  dash  of  it  in  the  face 
had  a  cooling  effect.  Somehow,  the  exhilaration  of 
the  wine  was  gone,  and  his  mood  took  a  sullen  turn. 
Money!  he  was  ever  in  need  of  money.  He  cursed 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWN         239 

his  ill  luck.  He  cursed  the  cause  of  it — drink. 
But  for  drink  he  would  not  have  been  plain  Johann 
Kopf,  brawler,  outcast,  spy,  disowned  by  his  fam- 
ily and  all  save  those  who  could  use  him.  He  re- 
mained standing  in  the  doorway,  brooding. 

At  last  he  drew  his  collar  about  his  throat  and 
struck  off,  a  black  shadow  in  a  bank  of  gray.  When 
he  reached  that  part  of  the  street  opposite  the  Grand 
Hotel,  he  stopped  and  sought  shelter  under  an 
awning.  The  night  patrol  came  clattering  down 
the  street.  It  passed  quickly,  and  soon  all  was 
still  again.  Johann  stepped  out  and  peered  up  and 
down.  The  street  was  deserted.  All  the  hotel 
windows  were  in  gloom,  save  a  feeble  light  which 
beamed  from  the  office  windows. 

Would  it  be  robbery?  He  had  not  yet  stooped  tt> 
that.  But  he  could  hear  the  ivory  ball  clatter 
as  it  fell  into  the  lucky  numbers.  He  had  a  pre- 
monition that  he  would  win  if  he  stuck  to  a 
single  combination.  He  would  redeem  the  gun, 
replace  it,  and  no  one  would  be  any  the  wiser.  If 

his  numbers  failed  him No  matter. 

He  determined  to  cross  the  Eubicon.  He  traversed 
the  street  and  disappeared  into  the  cavernous  al- 
ley, shortly  to  loom  up  in  the  deserted  courtyard 
of  the  hotel.  He  counted  the  windows  on  the  first 
floor  and  stopped  at  the  fourth.  That  was  the 
window  he  must  enter.  Noiselessly  he  crept  along 
the  walls,  stopping  now  and  then  to  listen.  There 
was  no  sound  except  the  monotonous  dripping  of 
the  rain,  which  was  growing  thinner  and  colder. 

Presently  he  came  across  the  ladder  he  was  seek- 
ing. He  raised  it  to  the  required  height,  and  once 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN 


more  placed  his  hand  to  his  ear.  Silence.  He 
mounted  the  rounds  to  the  window,  which  he  found 
unfastened.  In  another  moment  he  was  in  the 
room.  Not  an  object  could  he  see,  so  deep  was 
the  darkness.  If  he  moved  without  light  he  was 
likely  to  stumble,  and  heydey  to  his  fifty  crowns, 
not  to  say  his  liberty  for  many  days  to  come.  He 
carefully  drew  the  blinds  and  struck  a  match. 
The  first  object  which  met  his  gaze  was  a  fallen 
candle.  This  he  lit  and  when  the  glare  of  the 
flame  softened,  all  the  corners  of  the  room  stood 
out.  Nowhere  was  there  any  sign  of  a  gun. 
He  gave  vent  to  a  half-muttered  curse.  Some  one 
had  pilfered  the  gun,  or  the  proprietor  was  keep- 
ing it  until  the  Englishman  returned  from  the 
duchy.  But  he  remembered  that  there  were  two 
guns,  one  of  which  the  Englishman  did  not  use 
in  the  hunting  expeditions. 

So  he  began  a  thorough  search.  It  meant 
fifty  crowns,  green  baize  and  the  whims  of  for- 
tune. Cautiously  he  moved  between  the  fallen 
chairs.  He  looked  behind  the  bed,  under  the 
dresser,  but  without  success.  His  hand  closed 
savagely  around  the  candle,  and  he  swore  inaudibly. 
He  threw  back  the  bed  coverings,  not  that  he 
expected  to  find  anything,  but  because  he  could 
vent  his  rage  on  these  silent,  noiseless  things. 
When  he  lifted  the  mattress  it  was  then  he  took 
a  deep  breath  and  smiled.  What  he  saw  was 
a  gun  case.  He  drew  it  from  under.  It  was 
heavy;  his  fifty  crowns  were  inside.  Next  he 
picked  up  a  candlestick  and  stuffed  the  candle 
into  it,  and  laid  a  quilt  against  the  threshold  of 


THE    PUPPET     CRO.WN         241 

the  door  so  that  no  light  would  pierce  the  corridor. 

"This  is  the  gun  the  Englishman  did  not  use  iu 
the  hunting  expeditions,"  he  thought.  "If  it  is 
out  of  repair,  as  he  said  it  was,  my  fifty  crowns 
are  not  so  many  pf  ennige.  The  devil !  it  must  he 
a  valuable  piece  of  gun  smithing,  to  hide  it  under 
the  bedclothes.  Let  me  see  if  my  crowns  are  for 
the  picking." 

He  investigated  forthwith.  The  hammers  and 
the  triggers  worked  smoothly.  He  unlocked  the 
breech  and  held  the  nozzles  toward  the  candle  light 
— and  again  cursed.  The  barrels  were  clogged  up. 
Notwithstanding,  he  plucked  forth  the  cleaning-rod 
and  forced  it  into  one  of  the  tubes.  There  was  a 
slight  resistance,  and  something  fluttered  to  the 
floor  and  rolled  about.  The  second  tube  was 
treated  likewise,  with  the  same  result.  Johann 
laughed  silently.  The  fifty  crowns  were  tangible; 
he  could  hear  them  jingling  in  his  pocket,  and  a 
pretty  music  they  made.  He  returned  the  leather 
case  to  its  original  place  and  devoted  his  attention 
to  the  cylinder-shaped  papers  on  the  floor. 

For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Johann  remained  seated 
on  the  floor,  in  the  wavering  candle  light,  forget- 
ful of  all  save  the  delicate  tracings  of  steel  engrav- 
ing, the  red  and  green  inks,  the  great  golden  seal, 
the  signatures,  the  immensity  of  the  ciphers  which 
trailed  halfway  across  each  crackling  parchment. 
He  counted  sixteen  of  them  in  all.  Four  millions 
of  crowns.  .  .  .  He  was  rich, 'rich  beyond  all 
his  wildest  dreams. 

He  rose,  and  restored  the  gun  to  its  case.  Fifty 
crowns?  No,  no!  A  hundred  thousand,  not  a 


242         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

crown  less ;  a  hundred  thousand !  all  thoughts  of 
the  green  baize  and  the  rattle  of  the  roulette  ball 
passed  away.  There  was  no  need  to  seek  fortune; 
she  had  come  to  him  of  her  own  free  will.  Wine, 
Gertrude  of  the  opera,  Paris  and  a  life  of  ease; 
all  these  were  his.  A  hundred  thousand  crowns,  a 
hundred  thousand  florins,  two  hundred  thousand 
francs,  two  hundred  thousand  marks !  He  com- 
puted in  all  monetary  denominations;  in  all  coun- 
tries it  was  wealth. 

Something  rose  and  swelled  in  his  throat, 
and  he  choked  hysterically.  A  voice  whispered: 
"No,  not  a  hundred  thousand;  four  millions!" 
But  reason,  though  it  tottered,  regained  its  bal- 
ance, and  he  saw  the  utter  futility  of  attempting 
to  dispose  of  the  orders  on  the  government  inde- 
pendently. His  hands  trembled;  he  could  scarce- 
ly hold  this  vast  treasure.  Twice,  in  his  haste  to 
pocket  the  certificates,  they  slipped  from  his  grasp 
and  scattered.  How  those  six  syllables  frolicked 
in  his  mind!  A  hundred  thousand  crowns! 

He  extinguished  the  candle  and  laid  it  on  the 
floor,  put  the  quilt  on  the  bed,  then  climbed  through 
the  window,  which  he  closed  without  mishap.  He 
descended  the  ladder.  As  he  reached  the  bottom 
round  his  heart  gave  a  great  leap.  From  the 
alley  came  the  sound  of  approaching  steps.  Nearer 
and  nearer  they  came ;  a  shadow  entered  the  court- 
yard and  made  straight  for  the  door,  which  was 
but  a  few  feet*  from  the  reclining  ladder.  The 
kitchen  door  opened  and  the  burst  of  light  re- 
vealed a  belated  serving  maid.  A  moment  passed, 
and  all  became  dark  again.  But  Johann  felt  a 


243 


strange  weakness  in  his  knees,  and  a  peculiar  thrill 
at  the  roots  of  his  hair.  He  dared  not  move  for 
three  or  four  minutes.  But  he  waited  in  vain  for 
other  steps.  He  cursed  the  serving  maid  for  the 
fright,  disposed  of  the  ladder,  and  sought  the 
street.  He  directed  his  steps  toward  Stiiler's. 

"The  pig  of  an  Englishman  was  deeper  than  I 
thought.  In  the  gun  barrels,  the  gun  barrels !  If 
I  had  not  wanted  to  play  they  would  have  been 
there  yet !  A  hundred  thousand  crowns !" 

It  had  ceased  to  rain,  and  a  frost  was  congeal- 
ing the  moisture  under  foot.  On  the  way  back  to 
Stiiler's  Johann  slipped  and  fell  several  times; 
but  he  was  impervious  to  pain,  bruises  were  noth- 
ing. He  was  rich !  He  laughed ;  and  from  time 
to  time  thrust  his  hand  into  his  vest  to  convince 
himself  that  he  was  not  dreaming.  To  whom 
should  he  sell?  To  the  Osians?  To  the  duchess? 
To  the  king  that  was  to  be?  Who  would  pay 
quickest  the  hundred  thousand  crowns?  He  knew. 
Aye,  two  hundred  thousand  would  not  be  too  much. 
The  Englishman  would  send  for  the  certificates, 
but  his  agent  would  not  find  them.  The  abduc- 
tion? He  would  carry  it  through  as  he  had  prom- 
ised. It  was  five  thousand  crowns  in  addition  to 
his  hundred  thousand.  He  was  rich!  He  shook 
his  hand  toward  the  inky  sky,  toward  the  palace, 

toward  all  that  signified  the  past A 

hundred  thousand  crowns! 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  ARCHBISHOP'S  PALACE 
AND   AFTER 

Maurice,  as  he  labored  before  his  mirror,  won- 
dered why  in  the  world  it  took  him  so  long  to 
dress.  An  hour  had  passed  since  he  began  his 
evening  toilet;  yet  here  he  was,  still  tinkering,  so 
to  speak,  over  the  last  of  a  dozen  cravats.  The 
eleven  others  lay  strewn  about,  hopelessly  crumpled : 
mute  witnesses  of  angry  fingers  and  impassioned 
mutterings.  Usually  he  could  slip  into  his  evening 
clothes  in  less  than  thirty  minutes.  Something 
was  wrong.  But  perhaps  this  occasion  was  not 
usual. 

First,  the  hems  of  his  trousers  were  insur- 
gent; they  persisted  in  hitching  on  the  tops  of 
his  button  shoes.  Laces  were  substituted.  Then 
came  a  desultory  period,  during  which  gold  but- 
tons were  exchanged  for  pearl  and  pearl  for  gold, 
and  two-button  shirts  for  three-button.  For  Mau- 
rice was  something  of  a  dandy.  He  could  not 
imagine  what  was  tbe  matter  with  his  neck,  all 
the  collars  seemed  so  small.  For  once  his  mis- 
haps did  not  appeal  to  his  humor.  The  ascent 
244 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN          245 

from  his  shoes  to  his  collar  was  as  tortuous  as  that 
of  the  alpine  Jungfrau. 

Ah,  Madam,  you  may  smile  as  much  as  you 
please,  but  it  is  a  terrible  thing  for  a  man  to  dress 
and  at  the  same  time  think  kindly  of  his  fellow- 
beings.  You  set  aside  three  hours  for  your  toilet, 
and  devote  two  hours  to  the  little  curl  which  droops 
over  the  tip  of  your  dainty  ear;  but  with  a  man 
who  has  no  curl,  who  knows  nothing  of  the  practice 
of  smiles  and  side  glances,  the  studied  carelessness 
of  a  pose,  it  is  a  dismal,  serious  business  up  to  the 
last  moment. 

With  a  final  glance  into  the  mirror,  and  con- 
vinced that  if  he  touched  himself  it  would  be  only 
to  disarrange  the  perfection  which  he  had  striven 
so  hard  to  attain,  Maurice  went  down  stairs.  He 
had  still  an  hour  to  while  away  before  presenting 
himself  at  the  archbishop's  palace.  So  he 
roamed  about  the  verandas,  twirled  his  cane,  and 
smoked  like  a  captain  who  expects  to  see  his  men 
in  active  engagement  the  very  next  moment.  This, 
together  with  the  bad  hour  in  his  room,  was  an 
indication  that  his  nerves  were  finely  strung. 

He  was  nervous,  not  because  he  was  to  see  strange 
faces,  not  because  his  interest  in  the  kingdom's 
affairs  was  both  comic  and  tragic,  nor  because  he 
was  to  present  himself  at  the  archbishop's  in  a 
peculiar  capacity,  that  of  a  prisoner  on  parole.  No, 
it  was  due  to  none  of  these.  His  pulse  did  not 
stir  at  the  prospect  of  meeting  the  true  king. 
Diplomatic  functions  were  every-day  events  with 
him.  He  had  passed  several  years  of  his  life  in 
the  vicinity  of  emperors,  kings,  viceroys,  and  pres- 


246         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

idents,  and  their  greatness  had  long  ago  ceased 
to  interest  or  even  to  amuse  him.  He  was  con- 
scious only  of  an  agitation  which  had  already 
passed  through  the  process  of  analysis.  He  loved, 
he  loved  the  impossible  and  the  unattainable,  and 
it  was  the  exhilaration  of  this  thought  that  agi- 
tated him.  He  never  would  be  the  same  again — 
he  would  be  better.  Neither  did  he  regret  this 
love. 

Even  now  he  could  see  himself  back  in  his 
rooms  in  Vienna,  smoking  before  the  fire,  and 
building  castles  that  tumbled  down.  It  was 
worth  while,  if  only  to  have  something  to  dream 
about.  He  did  not  regret  the  love,  he  regretted 
its  futility.  How  could  he  serve  her?  What 
could  he  do  against  all  these  unseen  forces  which 
were  crumbling  her  father's  throne?  So  she  re- 
membered what  he  had  said  to  her  in  the  arch- 
bishop's garden?  He  looked  at  his  watch.  It 
was  nine. 

<cLet  us  be  off/'  he  said.  He  started  for  the 
Platz.  "How  uncertain  life  is.  It  seems  that  I 
did  not  come  to  Bleiberg  carelessly  in  the  way  of 
amusement,  but  to  work  out  a  part  of  my  des- 
tiny." He  arrested  his  steps  at  the  fountain  and 
listened  to  the  low,  musical  plash  of  the  water, 
each  drop  of  which  fell  with  the  light  of  a  daz- 
zling jewel.  The  cold  stars  shone  from  above. 
They  were  not  farther  away  than  she.  A  princess, 
a  lonely  and  forlorn  princess,  hemmed  in  by 
the  fabric  of  royal  laws;  a  princess  yet  pos- 
sessing less  liberty  than  the  meanest  of  her  peas- 
ants. Nothing  belonged  to  her,  not  even  her 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         247 

heart,  which  was  merchandise,  a  commodity  of  ex- 
change, turned  over  to  the  highest  bidder.  "Roy- 
alty," he  mused,  "is  a  political  slave-dealer;  the 
slaves  are  those  who  wear  the  crowns." 

Once  inside  the  palace,  he  became  a  man  of  the 
world,  polished,  nonchalant,  handsome,  and  mild- 
ly curious.  Immediately  after  the  usher  an- 
nounced his  name,  he  crossed  the  chamber  and 
presented  his  respects  to  the  prelate,  who,  he  rea- 
soned not  unwisely,  expected  him.  The  friendly 
greeting  of  the  archbishop  confirmed  this  reason- 
ing. 

"I  am  delighted  to  see  you,  Monsieur,"  he  said, 
showing  his  remarkably  well  preserved  teeth  in  the 
smile  that  followed  his  words.  "A  service  to  her 
Royal  Highness  is  a  service  to  me.  Amuse  your- 
self; you  will  find  some  fine  paintings  in  the  west 
gallery." 

"I  trust  her  Royal  Highness  is  none  the  worse  for 
the  fright,"  Maurice  replied.  He  also  remarked 
(mentally)  that  he  did  not  see  her  Highness  any- 
where. Several  introductions  followed,  and  he 
found  himself  chatting  with  the  British  minister. 

"Carewe?"  the  Englishman  repeated  thought- 
fully. "Are  you  not  Maurice  Carewe,  of  the 
American  Legation  in  Vienna?" 

"Yes." 

"May  I  ask  you  a  few  questions?" 

"A  thousand." 

"A  fellow-countryman  of  mine  has  mysteriously 
disappeared.  He  left  Vienna  for  Bleiberg,  saying 
that  if  nothing  was  heard  of  him  within  a  week's 
time,  to  make  inquiries  about  him.  This  request 


248         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

was  left  with  the  British  ambassador,  who  has  just 
written  me,  adding  that  a  personal  friend  of  the 
gentleman  in  question  was  in  Bleiberg,  and  that 
this  friend  was  Maurice  Carewe,  attache  to  the 
American  Legation.  Are  you  acquainted  with 
Lord  Fitzgerald,  son  of  my  late  predecessor?" 

"I  am  indeed.  I  saw  him  in  Vienna/'  said 
Maurice;  "but  he  said  nothing  to  me  about  com- 
ing here,"  which  was  true  enough.  "Is  there  any 
cause  for  apprehension?" 

"Only  his  request  to  be  looked  up  within  a  cer- 
tain time.  The  truth  is,  he  was  to  have  come  here 
on  a  peculiar  errand,"  with  lowered  voice.  "Did 
you  ever  hear  of  what  is  called  'Fitzgerald's  folly  ?' " 

"Yes;  few  haven't  heard  of  it."  Maurice  could 
never  understand  why  he  resisted  the  impulse  to 
tell  the  whole  affair.  A  dozen  words  to  the  man 
at  his  side,  and  the  catastrophes,  even  embryonic, 
would  be  averted.  "You  must  tell  me  who  most 
of  these  people  are,"  he  said,  in  order  to  get 
around  a  disagreeable  subject.  "I  am  a  total 
stranger." 

"With  pleasure.  That  tall,  angular  old  man,  in 
the  long,  gray  frock,  with  decorations,  is  Marshal 
Kampf.  You  must  meet  him;  he  is  the  wittiest 
man  in  Bleiberg.  The  gentleman  with  the  red 
beard  is  Mollendorf  of  the  police.  And  beside 
him — yes,  the  little  man  with  glasses  and  a  loose 
cravat — is  Count  von  Wallenstein,  the  minister  of 
finance.  That  is  the  chancellor  talking  to  the 
archbishop.  Ah,  Mr.  Carewe,  these  receptions  are 
fine  comedies.  The  Marshal,  the  count  and  Mol- 
lendorf represent  what  is  called  the  Auersperg 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         249 

faction  under  the  rose.  It  is  a  continual  battle  of 
eyes  and  tongues.  One  smiles  at  his  enemy, 
knows  him  to  be  an  enemy,  yet  dares  not  touch  him. 

"Confidentially,  this  play  has  never  had  the  like. 
To  convict  his  enemies  of  treason  has  been  for  ten 
years  the  labor  of  the  chancellor;  yet,  though  he 
knows  them  to  be  in  correspondence  with  the 
duchess,  he  can  find  nothing  on  the  strength  of 
which  to  accuse  openly.  It  is  a  conspiracy  which 
lias  no  papers.  One  can  not  take  out  a  man's 
brains-  and  say,  'Here  is  proof!'  They  talk,  they 
walk  on  thin  ice;  but  so  fine  is  their  craft  that  no 
incautious  word  ever  falls,  nor  does  any  one  go 
through  the  ice. 

"I  have  watched  the  play  for  ten  years.  I  should 
not  speak  to  you  about  it,  only  it  is  one  of  those 
things  known  to  all  here.  Those  gentlemen  talk- 
ing to  the  chancellor's  wife  are  the  ministers  from 
Austria,  Prussia,  France,  and  Servia.  You  will 
not  find  it  as  lively  here  as  it  is  in  Vienna.  We 
meet  merely  to  watch  each  other,"  with  a  short 
laugh.  "Good.  The  Marshal  is  approaching." 

They  waited. 

"Marshal,"  said  the  minister,  "this  is  Monsieur 
Carewe,  who  rescued  her  Highness's  dog  from  the 
students." 

"Ah!"  replied  the  Marshal,  grimly.  "Do  not 
expect  me  to  thank  you,  Monsieur;  only  day  be- 
fore yesterday  the  dog  snapped  at  my  legs.  I  am 
living  out  of  pure  spite,  to  see  that  dog  die  before 
I  do.  Peace  to  his  ashes — the  sooner  the  better." 

The  minister  turned   to   Maurice  and  laughed. 

"Eh!"  said  the  Marshal. 


250         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

"I  prophesied  that  you  would  speak  disparag- 
ingly of  the  dog." 

"What  a  reputation!"  cried  the  old  soldier.  "I 
dare  say  that  you  have  been  telling  Monsieur  Ca- 
rewe  that  I  am  a  wit.  Monsieur,  never  attempt 
to  be  witty;  they  will  put  you  down  for  a  wit,  and 
laugh  at  anything  you  say,  even  when  you  put 
yourself  out  to  speak  the  truth.  If  I  possess  any 
wit  it  is  like  young  grapes — sour.  You  are  con- 
nected in  Vienna?" 

"With  the  American  Legation." 

"Happy  is  the  country,"  said  the  Marshal, 
"which  is  so  far  away  that  Europe  can  find  no 
excuse  to  meddle  with  it." 

"And  even  then  Europe  would  not  dare,"  Mau- 
rice replied,  with  impertinence  aforethought. 

"That  is  not  a  diplomatic  speech." 

"It  is  true." 

"I  like  your  frankness." 

"Let  that  go  toward  making  amends  for  saving 
the  dog." 

"Are    all    American    diplomats    so    frank?"    in 
quired  the  Marshal,  with  an  air  of  feigned  wonder. 

"Indeed,  no,"  answered  Maurice.  "Just  at 
present  J  am  not  in  a  diplomatic  capacity;  I  need 
not  look  askance  at  truth.  And  there  is  no  rea- 
son why  we  should  not  always  be  truthful." 

"You  are  wrong.  It's  truth's  infrequenoy 
which  makes  her  so  charming  and  refreshing. 
However,  I  thank  you  for  your  services  to  her 
Highness;  your  services  to  her  dog  I  shall  try  to 
forget."  And  with  this  the  Marshal  moved  away, 


251 


shaking  his  head  as  if  he  had  inadvertently 
stumbled  on  an  intricate  problem. 

Not  long  after,  Maurice  was  left  to  his  own  de- 
vices. He  viewed  the  scene,  silent  and  curious. 
Conversation  was  carried  on  in  low  tones,  and 
laughter  was  infrequent  and  subdued.  The  women 
dressed  without  ostentation.  There  were  no  fair 
arms  and  necks.  Indeed,  these  belong  wholly  to 
youth,  and  youth  was  not  a  factor  at  the  arch- 
bishop's receptions.  Most  of  the  men  were  old 
and  bald,  and  only  the  wives  of  the  French  and 
British  ministers  were  pretty  or  young.  How 
different  from  Vienna,  where  youth  and  beauty 
abound !  There  were  no  music,  no  long  tables  of 
refreshments,  no  sparkling  wines,  no  smoking- 
room,  good  stories  and  better  fellowship.  There 
was  an  absence  of  the  flash  of  jewels  and  color 
which  make  court  life  attractive. 

There  seemed  to  be  hanging  in  the  air  some  invis- 
ible power,  the  forecast  of  a  tragedy,  the  begin- 
ning of  an  unknown  end.  And  yet  the  prelate 
smiled  on  enemies  and  friends  alike.  As  Maurice 
observed  that  smile  he  grew  perplexed.  It  was  a 
smile  such  as  he  had  seen  on  the  faces  of  men  who, 
about  to  die,  felt  the  grim  satisfaction  of  having 
an  enemy  for  company.  The  king  lay  on  his  death 
bed,  in  all  probabilities  the  throne  tottered;  yet 
the  archbishop  smiled. 

The  princess  did  not  know  that  her  father  was 
dying;  this  was  a  secret  which  had  not  yet  been 
divulged  to  her.  And  this  was  the  only  society  she 
knew.  Small  wonder  that  she  was  sad  and  lonely. 
To  be  young,  and  to  iind  one's  self  surrounded  by 


232         THE     PUPPET     CKOWX 

the  relics  of  youth ;  what  an  existence !  She  had 
never  known  the  beauty  of  a  glittering  ball- 
room, felt  the  music  of  a  waltz  mingle  with  the 
quick  throbs  of  the  heart,  the  pleasure  of  bestow- 
ing pleasure.  She  had  never  read  the  mute  yet 
intelligent  admiration  in  a  young  man's  eyes.  And 
what  young  woman  does  not  yearn  for  the  honest 
adoration  of  an  honest  man?  Poor,  lonely  princess 
indeed.  For,  loving  the  world  as  he  himself  did, 
Maurice  understood  what  was  slipping  past  her. 
Every  moment  the  roots  of  love  were  sinking  deeper 
into  his  heart  and  twining  firmly  about,  as  a  vine 
to  a  trellis. 

Is  there  a  mental  telegraphy,  an  indefinable 
substance  which  is  affected  by  the  close  proximity 
of  a  presence,  which,  while  we  do  not  see,  we  feel? 
Perhaps;  at  an)-  rate,  Maurice  suddenly  became 
a \vare  of  that  peculiar  yet  now  familiar  agitation 
of  his  nerves.  Instinctively  he  turned  his  head. 
In  the  doorway  which  separated  the  chamber  from 
the  conservatory  stood  her  Eoyal  Highness.  She 
was  dressed  entirely  in  black,  which  accentuated 
the  whiteness — the  Carrara  marble  whiteness — of 
her  exquisite  skin.  In  the  dark,  shining  coils 
swept  back  from  her  brow  lay  the  subtle  snare  of 
a  red  rose.  There  was  no  other  color  except  on 
the  full  lips.  She  saw  Maurice,  but  she  was  so 
far  away  that  the  faint  reflection  of  the  rose  on 
her  cheeks  was  gone  before  he  reached  her  side. 

"I  was  afraid,"  she  said,  lowering  her  eyes  as 
she  uttered  the  fib,  "that  you  would  not  come  after 
all." 

"It  would  have  been  impossible  for  me  to  stay 


THE     PUPPET     CKCMYN          253 

away,"  he  replied,  liis  eyes  ardent.  The  princess 
looked  away.  "And  may  I  ask  after  the  health 
of  the  dog?'" 

"Thanks  to  you,  Monsieur;  he  is  getting  along 
finely.  Poor  dog;  he  will  always  limp.  What 
it:  it  that  makes  men  inflict  injuries  on  dumb 
creatures  ?" 

"It  is  the  beast  that  is  envious  of  the  brute." 

"And  your  hand?''  with  a  glance  sympathetic 
and  inquiring. 

"My  hand?" 

"Yes;  did  you  not  injure  it?" 

"0 !"  He  laughed  and  held  out  two  gloved 
hands  for  her  inspection.  "That  was  only  a 
scratch.  In  fact,  I  do  not  remember  which  hand 
it  was." 

"You  are  very  modest.  I  should  have  made 
much  of  it." 

He  could  not  translate  this;  so  he  said:  "There 
was  nothing  injured  but  my  hat.  I  seem  unfor- 
tunate in  that  direction." 

She  smiled,  recalling  the  incident  in  the  arch- 
bishop's garden. 

"I  shall  keep  the  hat,  however,"  he  said,  "as  a 
souvenir." 

"Souvenirs,  Monsieur,"  she  replied  carelessly, 
"and  old  age  are  synonymous.  You  and  I  ought 
not  to  have  any  souvenirs.  Have  you  seen  the 
picture  gallery  ?  No  ?  Then  I  shall  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  showing  it  to  you.  Monseigneur  is  very 
proud  of  his  gallery.  He  has  a  Leonardo,  a  Bot- 
ticelli, a  Murillo,  and  a  Eembrandt.  And  they 


254         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

really  show  better  in  artificial  light,  which  soft- 
ens the  effect  of  time." 

Half  an  hour  was  passed  in  the  gallery.  It 
was  very  pleasant  to  listen  to  her  voice  as  she  de- 
scribed this  and  that  painting,  and  the  archbish- 
op's adventures  in  securing  them.  It  did  not 
seem  possible  to  him  that  she  was  a  princess,  per- 
haps destined  to  become  a  queen,  so  free  was  she 
from  the  attributes  of  royalty,  so  natural  and  in- 
genuous. He  caught  each  movement  of  her  deli- 
cate head,  each  gesture  of  her  hand,  the  countless 
inflections  of  her  voice,  the  lights  which  burned 
or  died  away  in  the  dark  wine  of  her  eyes. 

Poor  devil !  he  mused,  himself  in  mind ;  poor  fool ! 
He  forgot  the  world,  he  forgot  that  he  was  a  pris- 
oner on  parole,  he  forgot  the  strife  between  the 
kingdom  and  the  duchy,  he  forgot  everything  but 
the  wild  impossible  love  which  filled  his  senses. 
He  forgot  even  Prince  Frederick  of  Carnavia. 

In  truth,  the  world  was  "a  sorry  scheme  of  things." 
It  was  grotesque  with  inequalities.  He  had  no 
right  to  love  her;  it  was  wrong  to  give  in  to  the 
impulses  of  the  heart,  the  natural,  human  im- 
pulses. A  man  can  beat  down  the  stone  walls  of 
a  fort,  scale  the  impregnable  heights  of  a  citadel, 
master  the  earth  and  the  seas,  but  he  can  not  sur- 
mount the  invisible  barriers  which  he  himself 
erected  in  the  past  ages — the  quality  of  birth. 
Ah!  if  only  she  had  been  a  peasant,  unlettered 
and  unknown,  and  free  to  be  won !  The  tasks  of 
Hercules  were  then  but  play  to  him ! 

Next  she  led  him  through  the  aisles  of  potted 
plants  in  the  conservatory.  She  was  very  learned- 


THE     riJPPET     CROWN         255 

She  explained  the  origin  of  each  flower,  its  native 
soil,  the  time  and  manner  of  its  transportation. 
Perhaps  she  was  surprised  at  his  lack  of  botan- 
ical knowledge,  he  asked  so  many  questions.  But 
it  was  not  the  flowers,  it  was  her  voice,  which 
urged  him  to  these  interrogations. 

They  were  on  the  point  of  re-entering  the  re- 
ception chamber,  when  the  jingle  of  a  spur  on  the 
mosaic  floor  caused  them  to  turn.  Maurice  could 
not  control  the  start;  he  had  forgotten  all  about 
Beauvais.  The  soldier  wore  the  regulation  full 
dress  of  the  cuirassiers,  white  trousers,  tucked  into 
patent  leather  half-boots,  a  gray  jacket  with  gold 
lace  and  decorations,  red  saber  straps  and  a  gray 
pelisse  hanging  from  the  left  shoulder.  A  splen- 
did soldier,  Maurice  grudgingly  admitted.  What 
would  the  Colonel  say?  The  situation  was  humor- 
ous rather  than  otherwise,  and  Maurice  smiled. 

"I  was  looking  for  your  Highness,"  said  Beau- 
vais, as  he  came  up,  "to  pay  my  respects.  I  am 
leaving."  His  glance  at  Maurice  was  one  of  po- 
lite curiosity. 

"Colonel  Beauvais,"  said  the  princess,  coldly, 
"Monsieur  Carcwe,  of  the  American  Legation  in 
Vienna." 

She  was  not  looking  at  the  Colonel,  but  Mau- 
rice was,  and  the  Colonel's  total  lack  of  surprise 
astonished  him.  The  gaze  of  the  two  men  plunged 
into  each  other's  eyes  like  flashes  of  lightning,  but 
that  was  all. 

"I  am  charmed,"  said  the  Colonel,  a  half-iron- 
ical smile  under  his  mustache.  "Your  name  is 
not  unfamiliar  to  me." 


256         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

"No?"  said  Maurice,,  with  studied  politeness. 

"No.  It  is  connected  with  an  exploit.  Was  it 
not  you  who  faced  the  students  this  afternoon  and 
rescued  her  Highness's  dog?" 

"Ah!"  said  Maurice,  in  a  tone  which  implied 
that  exploits  were  every  day  events  with  him;  "it 
was  but  a  simple  thing  to  do.  The  students  were 
like  so  many  sheep." 

The  princess  elevated  her  brows;  she  felt  an 
undercurrent  of  something  which  she  did  not  un- 
derstand. Indeed,  she  did  not  like  the  manner 
in  which  the  two  men  eyed  each  other.  Her  glance 
passed  from  the  stalwart  soldier  to  the  slim,  ath- 
letic form  of  the  civilian. 

Conversation  drifted  aimlessly.  Maurice  had  the 
malice  to  cast  the  brunt  of  it  on  the  Colonel's 
shoulders.  The  princess,  like  a  rose  coming 
in  contact  with  a  chill  air,  drew  within  her- 
self. She  was  cold,  brief,  and  serenely  indiffer- 
ent. It  was  evident  to  Maurice  that  she  had  re- 
sumed her  royal  mantle,  and  that  she  had  shown 
him  unusual  consideration. 

Presently  she  raised  her  hand  to  her  head,  as 
sometimes  one  will  do  unconsciously,  and  the 
rose  slipped  from  her  hair  and  dropped  to  the 
floor.  Both  men  stooped.  Maurice  was  quickest. 
With  a  bow  he  offered  to  return  it. 

"You  may  keep  it,  Monsieur ;"  and  she  laughed. 

They  joined  her.  Maurice  knew  why  the 
Colonel  laughed,  and  the  Colonel  knew  why  Mau- 
rice laughed;  but  neither  could  account  for  the 
laughter  of  the  princess.  That  was  her  secret. 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         257 

All  things  come  to  an  end,  even  diplomatic  re- 
ceptions. Soon  the  guests  began  to  leave. 

Said  the  princess  to  Maurice:  "Your  invitation 
is  a  standing  one,  Monsieur.  To  our  friends  there 
are  no  formalities.  Good  night;  ah,  yes,  the  Eng- 
lish fashion,"  extending  her  hand,  which  Maurice 
barely  touched.  "Good  night,  Monsieur,"  to  Beau- 
vais,  with  one  of  those  nods  which  wither  as  ef- 
fectually as  frost. 

The  Colonel  bent  gracefully. 

"Decidedly  the  Colonel  is  not  in  high  favor  to- 
night," thought  Maurice;  "a  fact  which  is  emi- 
nently satisfactory  to  me.  Ah;  he  looks  as  if  he 
had  something  to  say  to  me.  Let  us  wait." 

"Monsieur,  have  you  any  other  engagement  thia 
evening?"  asked  Beauvais,  swinging  his  pelisse 
over  both  shoulders.  "If  not,  my  rooms  are  quite 
handy.  I  have  capital  cigars  and  cognacs.  Will 
you  do  me  the  honor  ?  I  should  like  to  have  you 
regale  me  with  some  Vienna  gossip;  it  is  so  long 
since  I  was  there." 

"Thanks,"  said  Maurice.  "I  shall  be  happy  to 
smoke  your  cigars  and  drink  your  cognacs."  He 
was  in  the  mood  for  any  adventure,  comic  or  se- 
rious. He  had  an  idea  what  the  Colonel  wanted 
to  say  to  him,  and  he  was  not  unwilling  to  listen. 
Besides,  he  had  no  fear;  he  now  wore  an  amulet 
close  to  his  heart. 

"Come,  then,"  said  Beauvais,  gaily;  and  the  two 
made  off.  "It  is  a  wonderful  game  of  chess,  this 
world  of  ours." 

"Yes,"  said  Maurice,  "we  do  keep  moving." 


258         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

"And  every  now  and  then  one  or  the  other  of 
us  steps  out  into  the  dark." 

"So  we  do."  Maurice  glanced  from  the  corner 
of  his  eye  and  calculated  his  chances  in  a  physical 
contest  with  the  Colonel.  The  soldier  was  taller 
and  broader,  but  it  was  possible  for  him  to  make 
good  this  deficiency  with  quickness.  But,  above 
all,  where  and  under  what  circumstances  had  he 
met  this  man  before? 

"Here  we  are!"  cried  the  Colonel,  presently. 

He  led  Maurice  into  one  of  the  handsome 
dwellings  which  faced  the  palace  confines  from  the 
east.  They  passed  up  the  stairs  into  a  large  room, 
Oriental  in  its  appointments,  and  evidently  the 
living  room.  The  walls  were  hung  with  the  para- 
phernalia of  a  soldier,  together  with  portraits  of 
opera  singers,  horses  and  celebrities  of  all  classes. 
On  the  mantel  Maurice  saw,  among  other  things, 
the  glint  of  a  revolver  barrel.  He  thought  noth- 
ing of  it  then.  It  occurred  to  him  as  singular,  how- 
ever, that  the  room  was  free  from  central  obstruc- 
tion. Had  the  Colonel  expected  to  meet  him  at 
the  archbishop's  and  anticipated  his  acceptance  of 
a  possible  invitation? 

Two  chairs  stood  on  either  side  of  the  grate. 
Between  them  was  an  octagon  on  which  were  cigars, 
glasses  and  two  cognac  bottles.  The  Colonel's  valet 
came  in  and  lit  the  tapers  in  the  chandelier  and 
woke  up  the  fire.  .  .  .  Maurice  was  convinced 
that  the  Colonel  had  arranged  the  room  thus  for  his 
especial  benefit,  and  he  regretted  his  eagerness  for 
adventure. 

"Franqois,"    said    Beauvais,    throwing   his    sh.-ikn 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWN         259 

and  pelisse  on  the  lounge  and  motioning  to  Mau- 
rice to  do  likewise,  "let  no  one  disturb  us." 

The  valet  bowed  and  noiselessly  retired.  The 
two  men  sat  down  without  speaking.  Beauvais 
passed  the  cigars.  Maurice  selected  one,  lit  it, 
and  blew  rings  at  the  Chinese  mandarin  which 
leered  down  at  him  from  the  mantel. 

Several  minutes  marched  into  the  past. 

"Maurice  Carewe,"  said  the  Colonel,  as  one  who 
mused. 

"It  is  very  droll,"  said  Maurice. 

"I  can  not  say  that  it  strikes  me  as  droll,  though 
I  am  not  deficient  in  the  sense  of  humor." 

"  'Twould  be  a  pity  if  you  were ;  you  would  miss 
so  much.  Through  humor  philosophy  reaches  its 
culmination ;  humor  is  the  foundation  upon  which 
the  palace  of  reason  erects  itself.  The  two  are  in- 
separable." 

"How  came  you  to  be  mixed  up  in  this  affair, 
which  is  no  concern  of  yours?" 

"That  question  is  respectfully  referred  to 
Madame  the  duchess.  I  was  thrown  into  it,  head 
foremost,  bound  hand  and  foot.  It  was  a  clever 
stroke,  though  eventually  it  will  embarrass  her." 

"You  may  give  me  the  certificates,"  said  Beau- 
vais. 

Maurice  contemplated  him  serenely.  "Impossi- 
ble," with  a  fillip  at  the  end  of  his  cigar. 

"You  refuse?"  coldly. 

"I  do  not  refuse.     Simply,  I  haven't  got  them." 

"What!"  The  Colonel  half  sprang  from  his 
chair. 

His    astonishment    was    genuine ;    Maurice    saw 


260         TXHE     PUPPET     CROWN 

that  it  was,  and  he  reflected.  Madame  nor  Fitz- 
gerald had  been  dishonest  with  him. 

"No.     Some  one  has  forestalled  me." 

"Are  you  lying  to  me?"  menacingly. 

"And  if  I  were?"  coolly. 

Beauvais  measured  his  antagonist,  his  eyes  hard 
and  contemptuous. 

"I  repeat,"  said  Maurice,  "the  situation  is  ex- 
ceedingly droll.  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  not  a  bit. 
I  am  not  a  man  to  be  intimidated.  You  might 
have  inferred  as  much  by  my  willingness  to  accom- 
pany you  here.  I  am  alone  with  you." 

"It  is  true  that  you  are  alone  with  me,"  in  a 
voice,  which,  though  it  did  not  alarm  Maurice, 
caused  him  to  rest  less  comfortably  in  his  chair. 
"In  the  first  place,  you  know  too  much." 

"The  knowledge  was  rot  of  my  own  seeking. 
You  will  agree  with  me  in  that."  He  took  a  swal- 
low of  the  cognac.  "However,  since  I  am  in  the 
affair—" 

"Well?" 

"I'll  see  it  to  its  end." 

"Perhaps.  We  shall  not  cross  purposes.  When 
men  plot  as  I  do,  they  stop  at  nothing,  not  even  at 
that  infinitesimal  minutiae  called  the  spark  of  life. 
It  becomes  a  matter  of  self-preservation.  I  am  in 
too  deep  water;  I  must  keep  on.  I  can  not  now 
turn  back;  the  first  shore  is  too  far  away." 

"Even  villainy  has  its  inconveniences,"  Maurice 
observed. 

"What  do  you  call  villainy?" 

"An  act  in  which  a  man  accepts  pay  from  one 
to  ruin  him  for  another.  That  is  villainy,  with- 


THE    PUPPET     CEOWN         261 

out  a  single  saving  grace,  for  you  are  a  native 
neither  of  the  kingdom  nor  the  duchy." 

"That  is  plain  language.  You  do  not  take  into 
consideration  the  villain's  motives.  There  may  be 
certain  ends  necessary  as  his  life's  blood,  which 
may  be  gained  only  by  villainy,  which,  after  all, 
is  a  hard  name  for  political  conspiracy." 

"Oh,  I  do  not  suppose  you  are  worse  than  the 
majority.  But  it  appeals  to  me  as  rather  a  small, 
unmanly  game  when  your  victims  are  a  man  who 
is  dying  and  a  girl  who  knows  nothing  of  the  world 
nor  its  treachery." 

An  almost  imperceptible  smile  passed  over  Beau- 
vais's  countenance.  "So  her  Highness  has  captured 
your  sympathies?"  with  a  shade  of  banter. 

"I  admit  that;  she  would  capture  the  sympathies 
of  any  man  who  has  a  good  pair  of  eyes  in  his  head. 
But  you  do  not  seem  to  be  in  favor  just  at  pres- 
ent," banter  for  banter. 

The  Colonel  studied  the  end  of  his  cigar.  "What 
is  to  be  your  stand  in  this  affair?" 

"Neutral  as  possible,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
I  have  passed  my  word  to  Madame;  compulsorily, 
it  is  true;  I  shall  abide  by  it.  That  is  not  to  say 
that  my  sympathies  are  not  wholly  with  the  Osians. 
Madame  is  a  brilliant  woman,  resourceful,  initia- 
tive; she  has  as  many  sides  as  a  cut  diamond; 
moreover,  her  cause  is  just.  But  I  do  not  like  the 
way  she  has  gone  about  the  recovery  of  her  throne. 
She  has  broken,  or  will  break,  a  fine  honest  heart; 
she  tried  to  break  another,  but,  not  being  above  the 
pantry  maid,  the  subject  of  her  attention  failed  to 
appreciate  the  consideration." 


262         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

Beauvais  laughed  at  this.  "You  are  very  good 
company.  Let  me  advise  you  to  remain  neutral. 
I  wish  you  no  harm.  But  if  you  change  your  mind 
and  stand  in  my  path — " 

"Well,  and  if  I  stood  in  your  path?" 

"Pouf!  you  would  vanish.  0,  I  should  not 
stoop  to  murder;  that  is  a  vulgar  word  and  prac- 
tice. I  should  place  a  sword  in  your  hand  and  give 
you  the  preference  of  a  gentleman's  death.  I  see 
nothing  to  prevent  me  from  carrying  out  that  this 
very  night,"  with  a  nod  toward  the  rapiers  which 
hung  from  the  opposite  wall. 

"You  might  be  surprised  at  the  result,"  said 
Maurice,  stretching  his  legs.  "But  at  present  I 
have  no  desire  to  quarrel  with  you,  or  to  put  your 
skill  to  a  test.  Once  Madame  gives  me  back  my 
word,  why,  I  do  not  say."  He  dipped  his  hand 
toward  the  ash-pan.  "Human  nature  is  full  of 
freaks.  A  man  will  commit  all  sorts  of  crimes,  yet 
stand  by  his  word.  Xot  that  I  have  committed  any 
crimes  against  the  ten  commandments." 

And  so  they  fenced. 

"You  picked  up  a  rose  to-night,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"So  I  did."  Maurice  blew  a  puif  of  smoke  into 
the  chimneyplace  and  watched  it  sail  upward  and 
vanish.  "Moreover,  I  propose  to  keep  it.  Have 
you  any  objections?" 

"Only  this:  her  Highness  intended  the  rose  for 
me." 

"No,  no,  my  friend,"  easily.  "She  would  not 
have  laughed  had  you  picked  it  up." 

"That  is  to  say  I  lie?" 

"It  is,"  laconically. 


THE    PUPPET     GROWN         263 

There  was  no  eluding  a  statement  so  bald  as  this. 
Beauvais  sat  upright.  "To  call  me  a  liar  is  a 
privilege  which  I  extend  to  no  man." 

"I  did  not  call  you  a  liar,"  undisturbed.  "You 
wrote  it  down  yourself,  and  I  simply  agreed  to  it. 
A  duel?  Well,  I  shall  not  fight  you.  Dueling  is 
obsolete,  and  it  never  demonstrated  the  right  or 
wrong  of  a  cause.  Since  my  part  in  this  affair  is 
one  of  neutrality,  and  since  to  gain  that  knowledge 
was  the  object  of  your  invitation,  I  will  take  my 
leave  of  you." 

He  rose  and  looked  at  the  porcelain  clock. 
As  he  did  so  his  gaze  rested  on  a  small  photo- 
graph standing  at  the  side  of  it.  He  scanned 
it  eagerly.  It  was  a  face  of  dark  Castilian  beauty. 
He  turned  and  looked  at  Beauvais  long  and 
earnestly.  There  was  an  answering  gaze,  an  im- 
mobility of  countenance.  Maurice  experienced  a 
slight  shock.  The  haze  over  his  memory  was  dis- 
persed. The  whole  scene,  in  which  this  man  loomed 
in  the  foreground,  came  back  vividly. 

"Your  stare,  Monsieur,   is  annoying." 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  replied  Maurice,  leaning 
against  the  mantel. 

"Do  me  the  honor  to  explain  it." 

Maurice,  never  dreaming  of  the  trap,  fell  head 
foremost  into  it.  "I  have  traveled  a  good  deal,"  he 
began.  "I  have  been — even  to  South  America." 

"Ah!"  This  ejaculation  expressed  nothing.  In 
fact,  Beauvais  was  smiling.  There  was  a  sinister 
something  behind  that  smile,  but  Maurice  was  un- 
observant. 

He  went  on.     "Yes,  to  South  America.     I  was 


THE    PUPPET     CBOWN 


there  in  a  diplomatic  capacity,  during  one  of  the 
many  revolutions.  This  country  was  the  paradise 
of  adventurers,  the  riff-raff  of  continental  social 
outcasts.  I  distinctly  remember  the  leader  of  this 
revolution.  Up  to  the  very  last  day,  Captain 
Urquijo  was  the  confidential  friend  of  the  presi- 
dent whom  he  was  about  to  ruin.  Through  the 
president's  beautiful  daughter  Urquijo  picked  up 
his  threads  and  laid  his  powder  trains.  The  woman 
loved  him  as  women  sometimes  love  rascals.  The 
president  was  to  be  assassinated  and  his  rival  in- 
stalled. Captain  Urquijo  was  to  be  made  General 
of  the  armies. 

"One  fine  day  the  troops  lined  both  sides 
of  the  plaza,  the  square  about  which  lay  the 
government  buildings.  It  was  the  event  of  some 
celebration;  I  believe  the  throwing  off  of  the  yoke 
of  Spain.  The  city  flocked  into  the  plaza. 
Strangely  enough,  those  who  were  disaffected — the 
soldiers  under  Urquijo — faced  the  loyal  troops. 
By  a  preconceived  plan,  the  artillery  was  under 
the  command  of  Urquijo.  Suddenly  this  Captain's 
murderous  and  traitorous  guns  swept  the  plaza, 
mangling  women  and  children.  There  was  a  flaw, 
however,  in  the  stroke.  Urquijo  fled,  a  reward 
posted  for  his  head — mind  you,  his  head;  they  did 
not  want  him  alive. 

"The  daughter  expiates  her  foolish  love  in 
a  convent.  Her  disgrace  proved  too  much 
for  her  father,  who  blew  out  his  brains.  The 
successor  secured  extradition  papers  in  all  the 
loading  capitals  of  the  world.  The  story  was 
the  sensation  of  the  day;  the  newspapers  made 


THE     PUPPET     CEOWN         265 

much  of  it.  All  governments  offered  to  assist  the 
republic  in  hounding  down  this  rascal.  To  what- 
ever country  he  belonged,  that  country  promised 
to  disown  him." 

Maurice  took  the  photograph  and  cast  it 
into  Beauvais' s  lap.  "Do  you  recognize  that  face? 
Is  it  not  a  mute  accusation  to  your  warped 
conscience?''  The  voice,  changing  from  the  mono- 
tone of  narrative,  grew  strong  and  contemptuous. 
"I  know  you.  I  recognized  you  the  moment  I  laid 
eyes  on  you,  only  I  could  not  place  you.  Perhaps 
it  was  because  it  did  not  seem  possible  that  you 
would  dare  show  your  face  to  civilized  people.  That 
photograph  has  done  its  work.  By  the  Lord,  but 
you're  a  fine  rascal !  Not  a  bit  changed.  Have 
you  forgotten  your  Spanish?  As  God  hears  me,  I 
shall  hold  you  up." 

"You  are  a  very  young  man,"  said  Beauvais,  ris- 
ing. He  was  still  smiling.  "Do  you  know  why 
I  asked  you  here?  For  this  very  reason.  Madame 
divined  you  well.  She  said  that  you  had  a  dash 
of  what  romanticists  call  valor,  but  that  you  never 
saw  an  inch  before  your  nose.  I  knew  that  you 
would  be  at  the  archbishop's;  I  knew  that  you 
would  follow  me  to  this  room.  Indeed,  you  might 
have  suspected  as  much  by  the  unusual  arrange- 
ment of  the  fixtures  of  the  room.  I  placed  that 
photograph  there,  trusting  to  your  rather  acute 
eyesight. 

"My  memory  seems  to  be  better  than  yours.  I 
knew  you  the  first  time  I  saw  you  in  Bleiberg.  I 
was  waiting  only  to  see  how  much  you  had  re- 
membered. I  am  not  Colonel  Beauvais;  I  am  not 


266         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

Urquijo;  I  am  the  last  of  a  noble  Austrian  house, 
in  exile,  but  on  the  eve  of  recall.  Your  knowledge 
would,  of  course,  be  disastrous  to  my  ambitions. 
That  is  why  I  wanted  to  find  out  how  much  you 
know.  You  know  too  much,  too  much  by  half; 
and  since  you  have  walked  into  the  lion's  den,  you 
shall  never  leave  it  alive."  With  this  he  sprang 
to  the  wall  and  tore  down  the  rapiers,  one  of 
which  he  flung  at  Maurice's  feet. 

Maurice  felt  the  hand  of  paralysis  on  his  nerves. 
He  looked  at  the  rapier,  then  at  Beauvais,  dazed 
and  incapable  of  movement.  It  had  been  so  sud- 
den. 

"And  when  they  find  you  in  some  alley  in  the 
lower  town  they  will  put  it  down  to  thieves.  You 
are  young  and  thoughtless,"  Beauvais  went  on  banter- 
ingly.  "A  little  discretion  and  you  might  have 
gone  with  a  whole  skin.  We  never  forget  a 
woman's  face,  and  I  knew  that  you  would  not  for- 
get hers.  Don't  trouble  yourself  about  leaping 
through  the  windows:  the  fall  will  kill  you  less 
effectually  than  I  shall." 

Maurice  pulled  himself  together.  The  prospect 
of  death  brought  back  lucidity  of  mind.  He  at 
once  saw  the  hopelessness  of  his  position.  He 
cursed  his  lack  of  forethought.  He  became  pale 
and  furious,  but  his  head  cleared.  His  life  hung 
in  the  balance.  He  now  translated  BeauvaisV 
smile. 

"So  you  wish  to  add  another  to  the  list  ?"  he  said. 

"To  shield  one  crime,  a  man  must  commit  many 
others.  0,  this  will  not  be  murder.  It  will  be  a 
duel,  in  which  you  will  have  no  chance.  Pick  up 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         267 

the  sword,  if  only  for  form's  sake."  Beauvais 
caught  the  wrist  thong  of  the  rapier  between  his 
teeth  and  rapidly  divested  himself  of  his  jacket  and 
saber  straps.  With  his  back  toward  the  door,  he 
rolled  up  his  sleeve  and  discovered  a  formidable 
forearm.  He  tried  the  blade  and  thrust  several 
times  into  the  air. 

"What  promise  have  I,"  said  Maurice,  "that  you 
will  not  run  me  through  when  I  stoop  for  the 
sword?"  This  question  did  not  serve. 

Beauvais  laughed.  "I  never  get  angry  in  mo- 
ments like  these.  I  am  giving  you  a  sword  to  ease 
my  conscience.  I  do  not  assassinate  boys." 
"But  supposing  I  should  kill  you  by  chance?" 
Beauvais  laughed  again.  "That  is  not  possible." 
Maurice  had  faced  death  before,  but  with  more 
confidence.  The  thought  that  he  had  poked  his 
head  into  a  trap  stirred  him  disagreeably.  He  saw 
that  Beauvais  possessed  a  superabundance  of  con- 
fidence, and  confidence  is  half  of  any  battle.  He 
picked  up  the  sword  and  held  it  between  his  knees, 
while  he  threw  off  his  coat  and  vest,  and  unbut- 
toned his  collar  and  cuffs.  What  he  had  to  sell 
would  be  sold  as  dearly  as  possible.  He  tested  the 
blade,  took  in  a  deep  breath,  fell  easily  into  posi- 
tion— and  waited. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

SOME   PASSAGES   AT   ARMS 

There  comes  a  moment  to  every  man,  who  faces 
an  imminent  danger,  when  the  mental  vision 
expands  and  he  sees  beyond.  By  this  transient  gift 
of  prescience  he  knows  what  the  end  will  be, 
whether  he  is  to  live  or  die.  As  Maurice  looked 
into  the  merciless  eyes  of  his  enemy,  a  dim  knowl- 
edge came  to  him  that  this  was  to  be  an  event 
and  not  a  catastrophe,  a  fragment  of  a  picture  yet 
to  be  fully  drawn.  His  confidence  and  courage 
returned.  He  thanked  God,  however,  that  the  light 
above  equalized  their  positions,  and  that  the 
shadows  were  behind  them. 

The  swords  came  together  with  a  click  light  but 
ominous.  Immediately  Beauvais  stepped  back, 
suddenly  threw  forward  his  body,  and  delivered 
three  rapid  thrusts.  Maurice  met  them  firmly,  giv- 
ing none. 

"Ah!"  cried  Beauvais;  "that  is  good.  You  know 
a  little.  There  will  be  sport,  besides." 

Maurice   shut   his   lips  the   tighter,   and   worked 

purely  on  the  defensive.     His  fencing  master  had 

taught  him  two  things,   silence   and   watchfulness. 

While  Beauvais  made  use  of  his  forearm,  Maurice 

268 


THE     PUPPET     (JKOWN         269 

ai  yet  depended  solely  on  his  wrist.  Once  they 
came  together,  guard  to  guard,  neither  daring  to 
break  away  until  by  mutual  agreement,  spoken  only 
by  the  eyes,  both  leaped  backward  out  of  reach. 
There  was  no  sound  save  the  quick  light  stamp  of 
feet  and  the  angry  murmur  of  steel  scraping 
against  steel.  Sometimes  they  moved  circlewise, 
with  free  blades,  waiting  and  watching.  Up  to  now 
Beauvais's  play  had  been  by  the  book,  so  to  speak, 
and  he  began  to  see  that  his  opponent  was  well 
read. 

"Which  side  is  the  pretty  rose?"  seeking  to  dis- 
tract Maurice.  "Tell  me,  and  I  will  pin  it  to  you/' 
Not  a  muscle  moved  in  Maurice's  face. 
"It  is  too  bad,"  went  on  Beauvais,  "that  her 
Highness  finds  a  lover  only  to  lose  him.  You  fool ! 
I  read  your  eyes  when  you  picked  up  that  rose. 
Princesses  are  not  for  such  as  you.  I  will  find  her 
a  lover;  it  will  be  neither  you  nor  Prince  Fred- 
erick— ah !  you  caught  that  nicely.  But  you  depend 
too  much  on  the  wrist.  Presently  it  will  tire;  and 
then — pouf !" 

Now  and  then  a  flame,  darting  from  the  grate, 
sparkled  on  the  polished  steel,  and. from  the  steel 
it  shot  into  the  watchful  eyes.  A  quarter  of  an  hour 
passed;  still  Maurice  remained  on  the  defensive. 
At  first  Beauvais  misunderstood  the  reason,  and 
thought  Maurice  did  not  dare  run  the  risk  of  pass- 
ing from  defensive  to  offensive.  But  by  and  by 
the  froth  of  impatience  crept  into  his  veins.  He 
could  not  penetrate  above  or  below  that  defense. 
The  man  before  him  was  of  marble,  with  a  wrist 
of  iron;  he  neither  smiled  nor  spoke,  there  was 


270         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

no  sign  of  life  at  all,  except  in  the  agile  legs,  the 
wrist,  and  eyes.  The  Colonel  decided  to  change  his 
tactics. 

"When  I  have  killed  you,"  he  said,  "I  shall 
search  your  pockets,  for  I  know  that  you  lie  when 
you  say  that  you  have  not  those  certificates. 
Madame  was  a  fool  to  send  you.  No  man  lives  who 
may  be  trusted.  And  what  is  your  game?  Save 
the  Osians?  Small  good  it  will  do  you.  Her 
Highness  will  wed  Prince  Frederick — mayhap — 
and  all  you  will  get  is  cold  thanks.  And  in  such 
an  event,  have  you  reckoned  on  Madame  the  duchess  ? 
War!  And  who  will  win?  Madame;  for  she  has 
not  only  her  own  army,  but  mine.  Come,  come ! 
Speak,  for  when  you  leave  this  room  your  voice  will 
be  silent.  Make  use  of  the  gift,  since  it  is  about 
to  leave  you." 

The  reply  was  a  sudden  straightening  of  the 
arm.  The  blade  slipped  in  between  the  Colonel's 
forearm  and  body,  and  was  out  again  before  the 
soldier  fully  comprehended  what  had  happened. 
Maurice  permitted  a  cold  smile  to  soften  the  rig- 
idity of  his  face.  Beauvais  saw  the  smile,  and  read 
it.  The  thrust  had  been  rendered  harmless  inten- 
tionally. An  inch  nearer,  and  he  had  been  a  dead 
man.  To  accomplish  such  a  delicate  piece  of  sword 
play  required  nothing  short  of  mastery.  Beau- 
vais experienced  a  disagreeable  chill,  which  was 
not  unmixed  with  chagrin.  The  boy  had  held  his 
life  in  his  hand,  and  had  spared  it.  He  set  his 
teeth,  and  let  loose  with  a  fury  before  which  noth- 
ing could  stand;  and  Maurice  was  forced  back  step 
by  step  until  he  was  almost  up  with  the  wall. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         271 

"You  damned  fool !"  the  Colonel  snarled,  "you'll 
never  get  that  chance  again." 

For  the  next  few  minutes  it  took  all  the 
splendid  defense  Maurice  possessed  to  keep  the 
spark  in  his  body.  The  Colonel's  sword  was  no 
longer  a  sword,  it  was  a  flame,  which  circled,  darted, 
hissed  and  writhed.  Twice  Maurice  felt  the  bite 
of  it,  once  in  the  arm  and  again  in  the  thigh. 
These  were  not  deep,  but  they  told  him  that  the 
end  was  but  a  short  way  off.  He  had  no  match  for 
this  brilliant  assault.  Something  must  be  done, 
and  that  at  once.  He  did  not  desire  the  Colonel's 
death,  and  the  possibility  of  accomplishing  this 
was  now  extremely  doubtful.  But  he  wanted  to 
live.  Life  was  just  beginning — the  rough  road  had 
been  left  behind.  He  was  choosing  between  his  life 
and  the  Colonel's.  Beauvais,  after  the  fashion  of  the 
old  masters,  was  playing  for  the  throat.  This  up- 
ward thrusting,  when  continuous,  is  difficult  to 
meet,  and  Maurice  saw  that  sooner  or  later  the 
blade  would  rea'ch  home.  If  not  sudden  death,  it 
meant  speechlessness,  and  death  as  a  finality.  Then 
the  voice  of  his  guardian  angel  spoke. 

"I  do  not  wish  your  life,"  he  said,  breaking  the 
silence,  "but  at  the  same  time  I  wish  to  live — 
Ah !"  Maurice  leaped  back  just  in  time.  As  it 
was,  the  point  of  his  enemy's  blade  scratched  his 
chin. 

They  broke  and  circled.  The  Colonel  feinted. 
Maurice,  with  his  elbow  against  his  side  and  his 
forearm  extended,  waited.  Again  the  Colonel 
lunged  for  the  throat.  This  time,  instead  of  meet- 
ing it  in  tierce,  Maurice  threw  his  whole  force 


272         THE    PUPPET     CEOWN 

forward  in  such  a  manner  as  to  bring  the  steel 
guard  of  his  rapier  full  on  the  Colonel's  point. 
There  was  a  ringing  sound  of  snapping  steel,  and 
the  Colonel  stood  with  nothing  but  a  stump  in  his 
grasp. 

"There  you  are,"  said  Maurice,  a  heat-flash  passing 
over  him.  Had  he  swerved  a  hair's  breadth  from 
the  line,  time  would  have  tacked  finis  to  the 
tale.  "Now,  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  talk,"  put- 
ting his  point  to  the  Colonel's  breast.  "It  would 
inconvenience  me  to  kill  you,  but  do  not  count  too 
much  on  that." 

"Damn  you !"  cried  the  Colonel,  giving  way,  his 
face  yellow  with  rage,  chagrin  and  fear.  "Kill 
me,  for  I  swear  to  God  that  one  or  the  other 
of  us  must  die !  Damn  you  and  your  meddling 
nose !" 

"Damn  away,  chevalier  d'industrie;  damn  away. 
But  live,  live,  live!  That  will  be  the  keenest  pun- 
ishment. Live !  0,  my  brave  killer  of  boys,  you 
thought  to  play  with  me  as  a  cat  with  a  mouse, 
eh?  Eh,  Captain  Urquijo-Beauvais-and-What-is- 
your-name?"  He  pressed  the  point  here,  there, 
everywhere.  "You  were  too  confident.  Pardon 
me  if  I  appear  to  brag,  but  I  have  taken  lessons 
of  the  best  fencing  masters  in  Europe,  and  three 
times,  while  you  devoted  your  talents  to  mono- 
logues, I  could  have  pinned  you  like  one  of  those 
butterflies  on  the  wall  there.  Have  you  ever 
heard  of  the  sword  of  Damocles?  Well,  well;  it 
hangs  over  many  a  head  to-day.  I  will  be  yours. 
I  give  you  forty-eight  hours  to  arrange  your  per- 
sonal affairs.  If  after  that  time  you  are  still  in 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         273 

this  part  of  the  country,  I  shall  inform  the  proper 
authorities  in  Vienna.  The  republic  has  representa- 
tion there.  Of  a  noble  Austrian  house,  on  the  eve 
of  recall?  I  think  not." 

Beauvais  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  clutch 
the  blade  in  his  hands. 

"No,  no!"  laughed  Maurice,  making  rapid  prods 
which  caused  Beauvais  to  wince.  "Now,  back; 
farther,  farther.  I  do  not  like  the  idea  of  having 
my  back  to  the  door." 

Beauvais  suddenly  wheeled  and  dashed  for  the 
mantel.  But  as  he  endeavored  to  lay  hand  on 
the  revolver  Maurice  brought  down  the  blade  on 
the  Colonel's  knuckles,  leaving  a  livid  welt.  Mau- 
rice took  possession  of  the  weapon,  while  a  grimace 
of  agony  shot  over  the  Colonel's  face.  Seeing  that 
the  chambers  were  loaded,  Maurice  threw  down  the 
sword. 

"Well,  well !"  he  said,  cocking  the  weapon. 
"And  I  saw  it  when  I  entered  the  room.  It  would 
have  saved  a  good  deal  of  trouble."  Beauvais  grew 
white.  "0,"  Maurice  continued,  "I  am  not  going 
to  shoot  you.  I  wish  merely  to  call  your  valet." 
He  aimed  at  the  grate  and  pressed  the  trigger, 
and  the  report,  vibrating  within  the  four  walls, 
was  deafening. 

A  moment  passed,  and  the  valet,  with  bulging 
eyes  and  blanched  face,  peered  in.  Seeing  how 
matters  stood,  he  made  as  though  to  retreat. 

Maurice  leveled  the  smoking  revolver.  "Come 
in,  Francois;  your  master  will  have  need  of  you." 

Frangois  complied,  vertigo  in  his  limbs.  "My 
God !"  he  cried,  wringing  his  hands. 


274         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

"Your  master  tried  to  murder  me,"  said 
Maurice.  Frangois  had  heard  voices  like  this  be- 
fore, and  it  conveyed  to  him  that  a  fine  quality 
of  anger  lay  close  to  the  surface.  "Take  down 
yonder  window  curtain  cord."  Frangois  did  so. 
"Now  bind  your  master's  hands  with  it." 

"Frangois/'  cried  the  Colonel,  "if  you  so  much 
as  lay  a  finger  on  me,  I'll  kill  you." 

"Frangois,  I  will  kill  you  if  you  don't,"  said 
Maurice. 

"My  God !"  wailed  the  valet,  at  loss  which  to 
obey  when  to  obey  either  meant  death.  His  teeth 
chattered. 

"You  may  have  all  the  time  you  want,  Fran- 
gois, to  wring  your  hands  when  I  am  gone.  Come; 
to  work.  Colonel,  submit.  I'm  in  a  hurry  and 
have  no  time  to  spare.  While  I  do  not  desire  to 
kill  you,  self-preservation  will  force  me  to  put  a 
bullet  into  your  hide,  which  will  make  you  art 
inmate  of  the  city  hospital.  Bind  his  hands  be- 
hind his  back,  and  no  more  nonsense." 

"Monsieur,"  appealmgl}r  to  Beauvais,  "my  God, 
I  am  forced.  He  will  kill  me!" 

"So  will  I,"  grimly;  "by  God,  I  will!"  Beau- 
vais had  a  plan.  If  he  could  keep  Maurice  long 
enough,  help  might  arrive.  And  he  had  an  excel- 
lent story  to  tell.  Still  Frangois  doddered.  With 
his  eye  on  the  Colonel  and  the  revolver  sighted, 
Maurice  picked  up  the  sword.  He  gave  Frangois 
a  vigorous  prod.  Frangois  needed  no  further  in- 
ducement. He  started  forward  with  alacrity.  In 
the  wink  of  an  eye  he  threw  the  cord  around 
Beauvais's  arms  and  pinned  them  to  his  sides. 


275 


Beauvais  swore,  but  the  valet  was  strong  in  his 
fright.  He  struggled  and  wound  and  knotted  and 
tied,  murmuring  his  pitiful  "Mon  Dieu!"  the 
while,  till  the  Colonel  was  the  central  figure  of  a 
Gordian  knot. 

"That  will  do,"  said  Maurice.  "Now,  Frangois, 
good  and  faithful  servant,  take  your  master  over 
1o  the  lounge  and  sit  down  beside  him  until  I  get 
into  my  clothes.  Yes;  that's  it."  He  shoved  his 
collar  and  tie  into  a  pocket,  slipped  on  his  vest  and 
coat,  put  on  his  hat  and  slung  his  topcoat  over 
his  arm.  During  these  maneuvers  the  revolver  re-' 
mained  conspicuously  in  sight.  "Now,  Frangois, 
lead  the  way  to  the  street  door.  By  the  time  you 
return  to  your  illustrious  master,  who  is  the 
prince  or  duke  of  something  or  other,  pursuit  will 
be  out  of  the  question.  Now,  as  for  you/'  turn- 
ing to  Beauvais,  "the  forty-eight  hours  .hold  good. 
During  that  time  I  shall  go  armed.  Forty-eight 
hours  from  now  I  shall  inform  the  authorities  at 
the  nearest  consulate.  If  they  catch  you,  that's 
your  affair.  Off  we  go,  Frangois." 

"By  God ! — "  began  Beauvais,  struggling  to  his 
feet. 

"Come  so  far  as  this  door,"  warned  Maurice, 
"and,  bound  or  not,  I'll  knock  you  down.  Hang 
you !  Do  you  think  my  temper  will  improve  in 
your  immediate  vicinity?  Do  you  think  for  a  mo- 
ment that  I  do  not  lust  for  your  blood  as  heartily 
as  you  lust  for  mine?  Go  to  the  devil  your  own 
way;  you'll  go  fast  enough!"  He  caught  Fnni- 
e,ois  by  the  shoulders  and  pushed  him  into  the 
hall,  followed,  and  closed  the  door.  Frangois  had 


276         THE     PUPPET     GROWN 

been  graduated  from  the  stables,  therefore  his 
courage  never  rose  to  sublime  heights.  All  the 
way  down  the  stairs  he  lamented,  and  each  time 
he  turned  his  head  and  saw  the  glitter  of  the  re- 
volver barrel  he  choked  with  terror. 

"If  you  do  not  kill  me,  Monsieur,  he  will;  he 
will,  I  know  he  will !  My  God,  how  did  it  hap- 
pen? He  will  kill  me!"  and  the  voice  sank  into 
a  muffled  sob. 

Despite  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  Maurice 
could  not  repress  his  laughter.  "He  will  not  harm 
you;  he  threatened  you  merely  to  delay  me.  Open 
the  door."  He  stepped  out  into  the  refreshing 
air.  "By  the  way,  tell  your  master  not  to  go  to 
the  trouble  of  having  me  arrested,  for  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning  I  shall  place  a  sealed  packet 
in  the  hands  of  the  British  minister,  to  be  opened 
if  I  do  not  call  for  it  within  twenty-four  hours. 
And  say  to  your  master  that  I  shall  keep  the 
rose." 

"Mon  Dieu !  A  woman !  I  might  have  known !" 
ejaculated  Frangois,  as  the  door  banged  in  his 
face. 

Maurice,  on  reaching  the  pavement,  took  to  his 
legs,  for  he  saw  three  men  rapidly  approaching. 
Perhaps  they  had  heard  the  pistol  shot.  He  con- 
cluded not  to  wait  to  learn.  He  continued  his 
rush  till  he  gained  his  room.  It  was  two  o'clock. 
He  had  been  in  the  Colonel's  room  nearly  three 
hours.  It  seemed  only  so  many  minutes.  He 
hunted  for  his  brandy,  found  it  and  swallowed 
several  mouth fuls.  Then  he  dropped  into  a  chair 
from  sheer  exhaustion.  Eeaction  laid  hold  of  him. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN"         277 

His  hands  shook,  his  legs  trembled,  and  perspira- 
tion rolled  down  his  cheeks. 

"By  George!"  This  exclamation  stood  alone, 
but  it  was  an  Odyssey.  He  remained  stupefied, 
staring  at  his  shoes,  over  which  his  stockings  had 
fallen.  His  shirt  buttons  were  gone,  and  the 
bosom  was  guiltless  of  its  former  immaculateness. 
After  a  time  he  became  conscious  of  a  burning 
pain  in  the  elbow  of  his  right  arm.  He  glanced 
down  at  his  hand,  to  find  it  covered  with  drying 
blood.  He  jumped  up  and  cast  about  his  clothes. 
One  leg  of  his  trousers  was  soaked,  and  the  dull 
ache  in  his  thigh  told  the  cause.  He  salved  the 
wounds  and  bound  them  in  strips  of  handker- 
chiefs, which  he  held  in  place  by  using  some  of 
the  cast-off  cravats. 

"That  was  about  as  close  to  death  as  a  man 
can  get  and  pull  out.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  swal- 
lowed that  cursed  blade  of  his.  I  am  an  ass, 
sure  enough.  I've  always  a  bad  cold  when  there's 
a  rat  about;  can't  smell  him.  And  the  rascal  re- 
membered me !  Will  he  stay  in  spite  of  my 
threat?  I'll  hang  on  here  till  to-morrow.  If  he 
stays — I  won't.  He  has  the  devil's  own  of  a 
sword.  Hang  it,  my  nerves  are  all  gone  to 
smash." 

Soon  some  gentler  thought  took  hold,  and  he 
smiled  tenderly.  He  brought  forth  the  rose,  turned 
it  this  way  and  that,  studied  it,  stroked  it,  held 
it  to  his  lips  as  a  lover  holds  the  hand  of  the 
woman  he  loves.  Her  rose;  somehow  his  heart 
told  him  that  she  had  laughed  because  Beauvais 
had  stooped  in  vain. 


278         THE    PUPPET     CEOWK 

"Ah,  Maurice,"  he  said,  "you  are  growing  over 
fond.  But  why  not?  Who  will  know?  To  have 
loved  is  something." 

He  crept  into  bed,  but  sleep  refused  him  its 
offices,  and  he  tossed  about  in  troubled  dreams. 
He  fought  all  kinds  of  duels  with  all  sorts  of 
weapons.  He  was  killed  a  half  dozen  times,  but 
the  archbishop  always  gave  him  something  which 
rekindled  the  vital  spark.  A  thousand  Beauvaises 
raged  at  him.  A  thousand  princesses  were  ever 
in  the  background,  waiting  to  be  saved.  He  swore 
to  kill  these  Beauvaises,  and  after  many  fruitless 
endeavors,  he  succeeded  in  smothering  them  in  their 
gray  pelisses.  Then  he  woke,  as  dreamers  always 
wake  when  they  pass  some  great  dream-crisis,  and 
found  himself  in  a  deadly  struggle  with  a  pillow 
and  a  bed-post.  He  laughed  and  sprang  out  of 
bed. 

"It's  no  use,  I  can't  sleep.     I  am  an  old  woman." 

So  he  lit  his  pipe  and  sat  dreaming  with  his 
eyes  open,  smoking  and  smoking,  until  the  sickly 
pallor  of  dawn  appeared  in  the  sky,  and  he  knew 
that  day  had  come. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A  MINOR   CHORD  AND  A  CHANGE  OF   MOVEMENT 

Marshal  Kampf,  wrapt  in  his  military  cloak,  with 
the  peak  of  his  cap  drawn  over  his  eyes,  sat  on 
one  of  the  rustic  benches  in  the  archbishop's  gar- 
dens and  reflected.  The  archbishop  had  announced 
an  informal  levee,  the  first  since  the  king's  illness. 
He  had  impressed  the  Marshal  with  the  fact  that 
his  presence  was  both  urgent  and  necessary.  Dis- 
turbed as  he  was  by  the  unusual  command,  the 
Marshal  had  arrived  an  hour  too  early.  Since  the 
prelate  would  not  rise  until  nine,  the  Marshal  told 
the  valet  that  he  would  wait  in  the  gardens. 

An  informal  levee,  he  mused.  What  was  the 
meaning  of  it  ?  Had  that  master  of  craft  and  silence 
found  a  breach  in  the  enemy's  fortifications?  He 
rubbed  the  chill  from  his  nose,  crossed  and  re- 
crossed  his  legs  and  teetered  till  the  spurs  on  his 
boots  set  up  a  tuneful  jingle. 

So  far  as  he  himself  was  concerned,  he  was  not 
worried.  The  prelate  knew  his  views  and  knew 
that  he  would  stand  or  fall  with  them.  He  had 
never  looked  for  benefits,  as  did  those  around  him. 
He  had  offered  what  he  had  without  hope  of  re- 
ward, because  he  had  considered  it  his  duty.  And, 
279 


280         THE    PUPPET     CKOWN 

after  all,  what  had  the  Osian  done  that  he  should 
be  driven  to  this  ignominious  end?  His  motives 
never  could  be  questioned;  each  act  had  been  in 
some  way  for  the  country's  good.  Every  king  is 
a  usurper  to  those  who  oppose  him. 

Would  the  kingdom  be  bettered  in  having  a 
queen  against  whom  the  confederation  itself  was 
opposed?  Would  it  not  be  adding  a  twofold  bur- 
den to  the  one?  The  kingdom  was  at  peace  with 
those  countries  from  which  it  had  most  to  fear. 
Was  it  wise  to  antagonize  them?  Small  independ- 
ent states  were  independent  only  by  courtesy. 
Again,  why  had  Austria  contrived  to  place  an  alien 
on  the  throne,  in  face  of  popular  sentiment? 
Would  Austria's  interests  have  been  less  safe  in  the 
advent  of  rightful  succession?  Up  to  now,  what 
had  Austria  gained  by  ignoring  the  true  house? 
Outwardly  nothing,  but  below  the  surface?  Who 
could  answer? 

For  eleven  years  he  had  tried  to  discover  the 
secret  purpose  of  Austria,  but,  like  others,  he  had 
failed;  and  the  Austrian  minister  was  less  decipher- 
able than  the  "Chinese  puzzle."  He  was  positive 
that  none  of  the  arch-conspirators  knew;  they  were 
blinded  by  self-interest.  And  the  archbishop  ?  The 
Marshal  rubbed  his  nose  again,  not,  however^  be- 
cause it  was  cold.  Did  any  one  know  what  was 
going  on  behind  the  smiling  mask  which  the  reti- 
cent prelate  showed  to  the  world?  The  Marshal 
poked  his  chin  above  his  collar,  and  the  wrinkles 
fell  away  from  his  gray  eyes. 

The  sky  was  clear  and  brilliant,  and  a  tonic 
from  the  forests  sweetened  the  rushing  air.  The 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         281 

lake  was  ruffled  out  of  its  usual  calm,  and  rolled 
and  galloped  along  the  distant  shores  and  flashed 
on  the  golden  sands.  Above  the  patches  of  red  and 
brown  and  yellow  the  hills  and  mountains  stood 
out  in  bold,  decided  lines. 

Water  fowl  swept  along  the  marshes.  The  doves 
in  twos  and  threes  fluttered  down  to  the  path, 
strutted  about  in  their  peculiarly  awkward  fashion, 
and  doubtfully  eyed  the  silent  gray  figure  on  the 
bench,  as  if  to  question  his  right  to  be  there  this 
time  of  the  morning,  their  trysting  hour.  Pres- 
ently the  whole  flock  .came  down,  and  began  cooing 
and  waltzing  at  the  Marshal's  feet.  He  soon  discov- 
ered the  cause. 

Her  Royal  Highness  was  coming  through  the 
opening  in  the  hedgerow  which  separated  the  two 
confines.  She  carried  a  basket  on  her  arm,  and 
the  bulldog  followed  at  her  heels,  holding  his  in- 
jured leg  in  the  air,  and  limping  on  the  remain- 
ing three.  At  the  sight  of  her  the  doves  rose  and 
circled  above  her  head.  She  smiled  and  threw  into 
the  air  handful  after  handful  of  cake  and  bread 
crumbs.  In  their  eagerness  the  doves  alighted  on 
her  shoulders,  on  the  rim  of  the  basket,  and  even 
on  the  broad  back  of  the  dog,  who  was  too  sober 
to  give  attention  to  this  seeming  indignity.  He 
kept  his  eye  on  his  mistress's  skirts,  moved  when 
she  moved,  and  stopped  when  she  stopped.  A  gray- 
white  cloud  enveloped  them. 

The  Marshal,  with  a  curious  sensation  in  his 
heart,  observed  this  exquisite,  living  picture.  He 
was  childless;  and  though  he  was  by  nature  un- 
demonstrative, he  was  very  fond  of  this  youth. 


282         THE     PUPPET     CEOWN 

Her  cheeks  were  scarlet,  her  rosy  lips  were  parted 
in  excitement,  and  her  eyes  glistened  with  pleasure. 
With  all  her  twenty  years,  she  was  but  ten  in  fancy ; 
a  woman,  yet  a  child,  unlettered  in  worldly  wit, 
wise  in  her  love  of  nature.  Xot  until  she  had 
thrown  away  the  last  of  the  crumbs  did  she  notice 
the  Marshal.  He  rose  and  bowed. 

"Good  morning,  your  Highness.  I  am  very  much 
interested  in  your  court.  And  do  you  hold  it 
every  morning?" 

"Even  when  it  rains,"  she  said,  smiling.  "I 
am  so  glad  to  see  you;  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you 
last  night,  but  I  could  not  find  the  opportunity. 
Let  me  share  the  bench  with  you." 

And  youth  and  age  sat  down  together.  The 
bulldog  planted  himself  in  the  middle  of  the  path 
and  blinked  at  his  sworn  enemy.  The  Marshal 
had  no  love  for  him,  and  he  was  well  aware  of 
it;  at  present,  an  armistice. 

The  princess  gazed  at  the  rollicking  waters,  at 
her  doves,  thence  into  the  inquiring  gray  eyes  of 
the  old  soldier. 

"Do  you  remember,"  she  said,  "how  I  used  to 
climb  on  your  knees,  ever  so  long  ago,  and  listen 
to  your  fairy  stories?" 

"Eh !  And  is  it  possible  that  your  Highness  re- 
members?" wrinkles  of  delight  gathering  in  his 
cheeks.  "But  why  'ever  so  long  ago'  ?  It  was 
but  yesterday.  And  your  Highness  remembers!" 
.  "I  am  like  my  father;  I  never  forget!"  She 
looked  toward  the  waters  again.  "I  can  recall  only 
one  story.  It  was  about  a  princess  who  lost  all 
her  friends  through  the  offices  of  a  wicked  fairy. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         283 

I  iv  mem  bo  r  n  because  it  was  the  only  story  you 
iold  me  that  had  a  sad  ending.  It  was  one  of 
Andersen's.  Her  father  and  mother  died,  and  the 
moment  she  was  left  alone  her  enemies  set  to 
work  and  toppled  over  her  throne.  She  was  cast 
out  into  the  world,  having  no  friend  but  a  dog; 
but  the  dog  always  found  something  to  eat,  and 
protected  her  from  giants  and  robbers  and  wolves. 

"Many  a  time  I  thought  of  her,  and  cried  because 
she  was  so  unhappy.  Well,  she  traveled  from  place 
to  place,  footsore  and  weary,  but  in  her  own  coun- 
try no  one  dared  aid  her,  for  fear  of  displeasing 
the  wicked  fairy,  who  at  this  time  was  all  power- 
ful. So  she  entered  a  strange  land,  where  some 
peasants  took  her  in,  clothed  and  fed  her,  and 
gave  her  a  staff  and  a  flock  of  geese  to  tend.  And 
day  after  day  she  guarded  the  flock,  telling  her 
sorrows  to  the  dog,  how  she  missed  the  dear  ones 
and  the  home  of  her  childhood. 

"One  day  the  reigning  prince  of  this  strange 
land  passed  by  while  hunting,  and  he  saw  the 
princess  tending  her  geese.  He  made  inquiries,  and 
when  he  found  that  the  beautiful  goose-girl  was 
a  princess,  he  offered  to  marry  her.  She  consented 
to  become  his  wife,  because  she  was  too  delicate 
to  drudge.  So  she  and  her  dog  went  to  live  at 
the  palace.  Once  she  was  married  the  dog  be- 
haved strangely,  whining  softly,  and  refusing  to  be 
consoled.  The  prince  was  very  kind  to  them  both. 

"Alas !  It  seems  that  when  she  left  her  own 
country  the  good  fairy  had  lost  all  track  of  her, 
to  find  her  when  it  was  too  late.  The  dog  was  a 
prince  under  a  wicked  spell,  and  when  the  spol1  fell 


284         THE    PUPPET    CROWX 

away  the  princess  knew  that  she  loved  him,  and 
not  her  husband.  She  pined  away  and  died.  How 
many  times  I  have  thought  of  her,  poor,  lonely, 
fairy-tale  princess !" 

The  old  soldier  blinked  at  the  doves,  and  there 
was  a  furrow  between  his  eyes.  Yes;  how  well  he 
remembered  telling  her  that  story.  But,  as  she 
repeated  it,  it  was  clothed  with  a  strange  signifi- 
cance. Somehow,  he  found  himself  voiceless;  he 
knew  not  how  to  reply. 

"Monsieur,"  she  said  suddenly,  "tell  me,  what 
has  my  poor  father  done  that  these  people  should 
hate  him  and  desire  his  ruin?" 

"He  has  been  kind  to  them,  my  child,"  his  gaze 
still  riveted  on  the  doves;  "that  is  all.  He  has 
given  them  beautiful  parks,  he  has  made  them  a 
beautiful  city.  A  king  who  thinks  of  his  peo- 
ple's welfare  is  never  understood.  And  ignorant 
and  ungrateful  people  always  hate  those  to  whom 
they  are  under  obligations.  It  is  the  way  of  the 
world." 

"And — and  you,  Marshal?"  timidly. 

"And  I?" 

"Yes.  They  whisper  that — that — 0,  Marshal,  is 
it  you  who  will  forsake  us  in  our  need?  I  have 
heard  many  things  of  late  which  were  not  intended 
for  my  ears.  My  father  and  I,  we  are  so  alone.  I 
have  never  known  the  comradeship  of  young 
people;  I  have  never  had  that  which  youth  longs 
for — a  confidant  of  my  own  age.  The  young  peo- 
ple I  know  serve  me  simply  for  their  own  ends, 
and  not  because  they  love  mo. 

"I  have  never  spoken  thus  before  to-day,  save  to 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWN         285 

this  dog.  He  has  been  my  confidant;  but  he  can 
not  speak  except  with  his  kind  old  eyes,  and  he  can 
not  understand  as  I  would  have  him.  And  they 
hate  even  him  because  they  know  that  I  love  him. 
Poor  dog! 

"What  my  father  has  done  has  always  been 
wrong  in  his  own  eyes,  but  he  sinned  for  my  sake, 
and  God  will  forgive  him.  He  gave  up  the  home 
he  loved  for  my  sake.  0,  that  I  had  known  and 
understood !  I  was  only  six.  We  are  so  alone ; 
we  have  no  place  to  go,  no  friends  save  two,  and 
they  are  helpless.  And  now  I  am  to  make  a  sacri- 
fice for  him  to  repay  him  for  all  he  has  done  for 
me.  I  have  promised  my  hand  to  one  I  do  not 
love;  even  he  forsakes  me.  But  love  is  not  the 
portion  of  princesses.  Love  to  them  is  a  fairy 
story.  To  secure  my  father's  throne  I  have  sacri- 
ficed my  girlhood  dreams.  Ah!  and  they  were  so 
sweet  and  dear." 

She  put  a  hand  to  her  throat  as  if  something 
had  tightened  there.  "Marshal,  I  beg  of  you  to 
tell  me  the  truth,  the  truth!  Is  my  father  dying? 
Is  he?  He — they  will  not  tell  me  the  truth.  And 
I  ...  never  to  hear  his  voice  again !  The 
truth,  for  pity's  sake !"  She  caught  at  his  hands 
and  strove  to  read  his  eyes.  "For  pity's  sake!" 

He  drew  his  breath  deeply.  He  dared  not  look 
into  her  eyes  for  fear  she  might  see  the  tears  in 
his;  so  he  bent  hastily  and  pressed  her  hands  to 
his  lips.  But  in  his  heart  he  knew  that  his  promise 
to  the  dead  was  gone  with  the  winds,  and  that  he 
would  shed  the  last  drop  of  blood  in  his  withered 
veins  for  the  sake  of  this  sad,  lonely  child. 


386         THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

"Your  father,  my  child,  will  never  stand  up 
straight  again,"  he  said.  "As  for  the  rest,  that  is 
in  the  hands  of  God.  But  I  swear  to  you  that  this 
dried-up  old  heart  beats  only  for  you.  I  will  stand 
or  fall  with  you,  in  good  times  or  bad/'  And  he 
rubbed  his  nose  more  fiercely  than  ever.  "Had  I 
a  daughter —  But  there !  I  have  none." 

"My  heart  is  breaking,"  she  said,  with  a  little 
sob.  She  sank  back,  her  head  drooped  to  the  arm 
of  the  bench,  and  she  made  no  effort  to  stem  the 
flood  of  tears.  "I  have  no  mother,  and  now  my 
father  is  to  leave  me.  And  I  love  him  so,  I  love 
him  so !  He  has  sacrificed  all  his  happiness  to 
secure  mine — in  vain.  I  laugh  and  smile  because 
he  asks  me  to,  and  all  the  while  my  heart  is  break- 
ing, breaking." 

At  this  juncture  the  doves  rose  hurriedly.  The 
Marshal  discovered  the  archbishop's  valet  making 
toward  him. 

"Monsieur  the  Marshal,  Monseigneur  breakfasts 
and  requests  you  to  join  him." 

"Immediately;"  and  the  Marshal  rose.  He 
placed  his  hand  on  the  dark  head.  "Keep  up  your 
heart,  my  child,"  he  said,  "and  we  shall  see  if  I 
have  grown  too  old  for  service."  He  squared  his 
shoulders  and  followed  the  valet,  who  viewed  the 
scene  with  a  valet's  usual  nonchalance.  When 
the  Marshal  reached  the  steps  to  the  side  entrance, 
he  looked  back.  The  dog  had  taken  his  place,  and 
the  girl  had  buried  her  face  in  his  neck.  A  mo- 
ment later  the  old  soldier  was  ushered  into  the 
archbishop's  presence,  but  neither  with  fear  nor 
uneasiness  in  his  heart. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         287 

"Ah !  Good  morning,  Marshal,"  said  the  prelate. 
"Be  seated.  Did  you  not  find  it  chilly  in  the  gar- 
dens?" 

"Not  the  least.  It  is  a  fine  day.  I  have  just 
left  her  Royal  Highness." 

THe  prelate  arched  his  eyebrows,  and  an  inter- 
rogation shot  out  from  under  them. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  observant  soldier.  "My 
heart  has  ever  been  hers;  this  time  it  is  my  hand 
and  brain." 

The  prelate's  egg  spoon  remained  poised  in  mid- 
air ;  then  it  dropped  with  a  clatter  into  the  cup ! 
But  a  moment  gone  he  had  held  a  sword  in  his 
hand;  he  was  disarmed. 

"I  have  promised  to  stand  and  fall  with  her." 

"Stand  and  fall?  Why  not  'or'?"  with  a  long, 
steadfast  gaze. 

"Did  I  say  'and'?  Well,  then,"  stolidly,  "per- 
haps that  is  the  word  I  meant  to  use.  If  I  do  the 
one  I  shall  certainly  do  the  other." 

The  archbishop  absently  stirred  his  eggs. 

"God  is  witness,"  said  the  Marshal,  "I  have  al- 
ways been  honest." 

"Yes." 

"And  neutral." 

"Yes;  honest  and  neutral." 

"But  a  man,  a  lonely  man  like  myself,  can  not 
always  master  the  impulses  of  the  heart;  and  I 
have  surrendered  to  mine." 

The  listener  turned  to  some  documents  which 
lay  beside  the  cup,  and  idly  fingered  them.  "I  am 
glad;  I  am  very  glad.  I  have  always  secretly  ad- 


288         THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

mired  you;  and  to  tell  the  truth,  I  have  feared  you 
most  of  all— because  you  are  honest." 

The  Marshal  shifted  his  saber  around  and  drew 
his  knees  together.  "I  return  the  compliment," 
frankly.  "I  have  never  feared  you;  I  have  dis- 
trusted you." 

"And  why  distrusted?" 

"Because  Leopold  of  Osia  would  never  have  for- 
saken his  birthright,  nor  looked  toward  a  throne., 
had  you  not  pointed  the  way  and  coveted  the  arch- 
bishopric." 

"I  wished  only  to  make  him  great;"  but  the  pre- 
late lowered  his  eyes. 

"And  share  his  greatness,"  was  the  shrewd  re- 
joinder. "I  am  an  old  man,  and  frankness  in  old 
age  is  pardonable.  There  are  numbers  of  disin- 
terested men  in  the  world,  but  unfortunately  they 
happen  to  be  dead.  0,  I  do  not  blame  you;  there 
is  human  nature  in  most  of  us.  But  the  days  of 
Kichelieus  and  Mazarins  are  past.  The  Church  is 
simply  the  church,  and  is  no  longer  the  power 
behind  the  throne.  I  have  served  the  house  of 
Auersperg  for  fifty  years,  that  is  to  say,  since  I 
was  sixteen;  I  had  hoped  to  die  in  the  service. 
Perhaps  my  own  reason  for  distrusting  you  has  not 
been  disinterested." 

"Perhaps  not." 

"And  as  I  now  stand  I  shall  die  neither  in  the 
service  of  the  house  of  Auersperg  nor  of  Osia.  It  is 
not  the  princess;  it  is  the  lonely  girl." 

"I  need  not  tell  you,"  said  the  prelate  quietly, 
"that  I  am  in  Bleiberg  only  for  that  purpose.  And 
since  we  are  together,  I  will  tell  you  this:  Madame 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         289 

the  duchess  will  never  sit  upon  this  throne.  To-day 
I  am  practically  regent,  with  full  powers  from  his 
Majesty.  I  have  summoned  von  Wallenstein  and 
Mollendorf  for  a  purpose  which  I  shall  make 
known  to  you."  He  held  up  two  documents,  and 
gently  waving  them:  "These  contain  the  dismissal 
of  both  gentlemen,  together  with  my  reasons.  There 
were  three;  one  I  shall  now  destroy  because  it  has 
suddenly  become  void."  He  tore  it  up,  turned, 
and  flung  the  pieces  into  the  grate. 

The  Marshal  glanced  instinctively  at  his  shoulder 
straps,  and  saw  that  they  had  come  very  near  to 
oblivion. 

"There  is  nothing  more,  Marshal,"  went  on  the 
prelate.  "What  I  had  to  say  to  you  has  slipped 
my  mind.  Under  the  change  of  circumstances,  it 
might  embarrass  you  to  meet  von  Wallenstein  and 
Mollendorf.  You  have  spoken  frankly,  and  in 
justice  to  you  I  will  return  in  kind.  Yes,  in  the 
old  days  I  was  ambitious;  but  God  has  punished 
me  through  those  I  love.  I  shall  leave  to  you  the 
selection  of  a  new  Colonel  of  the  cuirassiers." 

"What !  and  Beauvais,  too  ?"  exclaimed  the 
Marshal. 

"Yes.  My  plans  require  it.  I  have  formed  a 
new  cabinet,  which  will  meet  to-night  at  eight.  I 
shall  expect  you  to  be  present." 

The  two  old  men  rose.  Suddenly,  a  kindly  smile 
broke  through  the  austereness  of  the  prelate's 
countenance,  and  he  thrust  out  his  hand;  the  old 
soldier  met  it. 

"Providence  always  watches  over  the  innocent,'' 


290 


said  the  prelate,  "else  we  would  have  been  still  at 
war.  Good  morning." 

The  Marshal  returned  home,  thoughtful  and 
taciturn.  What  would  be  the  end? 

Ten  minutes  after  the  Marshal's  departure,  von 
Wallenstein  and  Mollendorf  entered  the  prelate's 
breakfast  room. 

"Good  morning,  Messieurs,"  said  the  churchman, 
the  expression  on  his  face  losing  its  softness,  and 
the  glint  of  triumph  stealing  into  his  keen  eyes. 
"I  am  acting  on  behalf  of  his  Majesty  this  morn- 
ing," presenting  a  document  to  each.  "Observe 
them  carefully/'  He  turned  and  left  the  room. 
The  archbishop  had  not  only  eaten  a  breakfast,  he 
had  devoured  a  cabinet. 

Count  von  Wallenstein  watched  the  retreating 
figure  of  the  prelate  till  the  door  closed  behind  it; 
then  he  smiled  at  Mollendorf,  who  had  not  the 
courage  to  return  it,  and  who  stared  at  the  parch- 
ment in  his  hand  as  if  it  were  possessed  of  basilisk 
eyes. 

"Monseigneur,"  said  the  count,  as  he  glanced 
through  the  contents  of  the  document,  "has  fore- 
stalled me.  Well,  well;  I  do  not  begrudge  him  his 
last  card.  He  has  played  it;  let  us  go." 

"Perhaps,"  faltered  Mollendorf,  "he  has  played 
his  first  card.  What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Remain  at  home  and  wait.  And  I  shall  not 
have  long  to  wait.  The  end  is  near." 

"Count,  I  tell  you  that  the  archbishop  is  not  a 
man  to  play  thus  unless  something  strong  were 
behind  him.  You  do  wrong  not  to  fear  him." 

Von    Wallenstein    recalled    the    warning    of    the 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         291 

Colonel  of  the   cuirassiers.     "Nevertheless,  we  are 
too  strong  to  fear  him." 

"Monseigneur  is  in  correspondence  with  Aus- 
tria," said  the  minister  of  police,  quietly. 

"You  said  nothing  of  this  before,"  was  the  sur- 
prised reply. 

"It  was  only  this  morning  that  I  learned  it." 

The  count's  gaze  roamed  about  the  room,  and 
finally  rested  on  the  charred  slips  of  paper  in  the 
grate.  He  shrugged. 

"If  he  corresponds  with  Austria  it  is  too  late," 
he  said.  "Come,  let  us  go."  He  snapped  his  fin- 
gers in  the  air,  and  Mollendorf  followed  him  from 
the  room. 

#####* 

The  princess  still  remained  on  the  rustic  bench; 
her  head  was  bowed,  but  her  tears  were  dried. 

"0,  Bull,"  she  whispered,  "and  you  and  I  shall 
soon  be  all  alone !" 

A  few  doves  fluttered  about  her;  the  hills  flamed 
beneath  the  chill  September  sky,  the  waters  sang 
and  laughed,  but  she  saw  not  nor  heard. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A   CHANCE   RIDE   IN   THE   NIGHT 

Maurice,  who  had  wisely  slept  the  larger  part  of 
the  day,  and  amused  himself  at  solitary  billiards 
until  dinner,  came  out  on  the  terrace  to  smoke  his 
after-dinner  cigar.  He  watched  the  sun  as,  like 
a  ball  of  rusted  brass,  it  slid  down  behind  the  hills, 
leaving  the  glowing  embers  of  a  smoldering  day 
on  the  hilltops.  The  vermilion  deepened  into 
charred  umber,  and  soon  the  west  was  a  blackened 
grate;  another  day  vanished  in  ashes.  The  filmy 
golden  pallor  of  twilight  now  blurred  the  land- 
scape; the  wind  increased  with  a  gayer,  madder, 
keener  touch ;  the  lake  went  billowing  in  shadows 
of  gray  and  black,  and  one  by  one  the  lamps  of  the 
city  sprang  up,  vivid  as  sparks  from  an  anvil. 
Now  and  again  the  thin,  clear  music  of  the  band 
drifted  across  from  the  park.  The  fountain  glim- 
mered in  the  Platz,  the  cafes  began  to  glitter,  car- 
riages rolled  hither  and  thither.  The  city  had 
taken  on  its  colorful  night. 

"Well,  here's  another  day  gone,"  he  mused,  rub- 
bing his  elbow,  which  was  yet  stiff.  "I  am 
anxious  to  know  what  that  sinner  is  doing.  Has 
292 


THE     PUPPET     CROWE"         293 

he  pulled  up  stakes  or  has  he  stayed  to  get  a  whack 
at  me?  I  hope  he's  gone;  he's  a  had  Indian,  and 
if  anything,  he'll  want  my  scalp  in  his  belt  before 
he  goes.  Hang  it !  It  seems  that  I  have  poked  my 
head  into  every  bear  trap  in  the  kingdom.  I  may 
not  get  out  of  the  next  one.  How  clever  I  was, 
to  be  sure!  It  all  comes  from  loving  the  dra- 
matic. I  am  a  diplomat,  but  nobody  woilld  guess 
it  at  first  sight.  To  talk  to  a  man  as  I  talked  to 
him,  and  to  threaten !  He  said  I  was  young ;  I 
was,  but  I  grow  older  every  day.  And  the  wise 
word  now  is,  don't  imitate  the  bull  of  the  trestle," 
as  he  recalled  an  American  cartoon  which  at  that 
day  was  having  vogue  in  the  American  colony  in 
Vienna. 

"I  like  adventure,  I  know,  but  I'm  going 
to  give  the  Colonel  a  wide  berth.  If  he  sees  me 
first,  off  the  board  I  go.  Where  will  he  go — to 
the  duchy?  I  trust  not;  we  both  can  not  settle  in 
that  territory;  it's  too  small.  And  yet  I  am  bound 
to  go  back;  it  is  not  my  promise  so  much  as  it  is 
my  cursed  curiosity.  By  George !"  rubbing  his 
elbow  gently.  "And  to  think,  Maurice,  that  you 
might  not  have  witnessed  this  sunset  but  for  a  bit 
of  fencing  trickery.  What  a  turn  that  picture  of 
Inez  gave  me!  I  knew  him  in  a  second — and  like 
the  ass  I  was,  I  told  him  so.  And  to  meet  him 
here,  almost  a  left-handed  king;  no  wonder  I  did 
not  recognize  him. 

"I  should  like  to  come  in  on  Fitzgerald  to- 
night. His  father  must  have  had  a  crazy  streak 
in  him  somewhere.  Four  millions  to  throw 
away;  humph!  And  who  the  deuce  has  those 


294         THE     PUPPET     CBOWN 

certificates?"  He  lolled  against  the  parapet.  "If 
I  had  four  millions,  and  if  Prince  Frederick 
had  disappeared  for  good.  .  .  .  Why  are 
things  so  jumbled  up,  at  sixes  and  sevens?  We 
are  all  human  beings;  why  should  some  be  placed 
higher  than  others?  A  prince  is  no  better  than  I 
am,  and  may  be  not  half  so  good. 

"Sometimes  I  like  to  get  up  high  somewhere  and 
look  down  on  every  one  else;  every  one  else  looks 
so  small  that  it's  comforting.  The  true  philosopher 
has  no  desire;  he  sits  down  and  views  the  world 
as  if  he  were  not  a  part  of  it.  Perhaps  it  is  best 
so.  Yes,  I  would  like  four  millions  and  a  princi- 
pality. .  .  .  Heigho !  how  bracing  the  air  is, 
and  what  a  night  for  a  ride!  I've  a  mind  to  exer- 
cise Madame's  horse.  A  long  lone  ride  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  lake,  on  the  road  to  Italy ;  come, 
let's  try  it.  Better  that  than  mope." 

He  mounted  to  the  veranda,  and  for  the  first 
time  he  noticed  the  suppressed  excitement  which 
lit  the  faces  of  those  around  him.  Groups  were 
gathered  here  and  there,  talking,  gesticulating,  and 
flourishing  the  evening  papers.  He  moved  toward 
the  nearest  group. 

"The  archbishop  has  dismissed  the  cabinet 
.  .  .  crisis  imminent." 

"The  Austrian  minister  has  recalled  his  invita- 
tions to  the  embassy  ball." 

"The  archbishop  will  not  be  able  to  form  another 
cabinet." 

"Count  von  Wallenstein     .     .    .    " 

"Mollendorf  and  Beauvais,  too — " 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         295 

"The  king  is  dying  .  .  .  The  archbishop  has 
been  given  full  powers." 

"The  army  will  revolt  unless  Beauvais  is  re- 
called." 

"And  the  Marshal  says  here    .     .     ." 

Maurice  waited  to  hear  no  more,  but  climbed 
through  the  window  into  the  office. 

"By  George,  something  has  happened  since  last 
night.  I  must  have  an  evening  paper."  He  found 
one,  and  read  an  elaborate  account  of  what  had 
taken  place  during  the  day.  Von  Wallenstein  had 
been  relieved  of  the  finance.  Mollendorf  of  the 
police,  Erzberg  of  foreign  affairs,  and  Beauvais  of 
his  epaulettes.  There  remained  only  the  arch- 
bishop, the  chancellor  and  the  Marshal.  The  edi- 
torial was  virulent  in  its  attack  on  the  archbishop, 
blustered  and  threatened,  and  predicted  that  the 
fall  of  the  dynasty  was  but  a  matter  of  a  few  hours. 
For  it  asserted  that  the  prelate  could  not  form 
another  cabinet,  and  without  a  cabinet  there  could 
be  no  government.  It  was  not  possible  for  the 
archbishop  to  shoulder  the  burden  alone;  he  must 
reinstate  the  ministry  or  fall. 

"And  this  is  the  beginning  of  the  end,"  said 
Maurice,  throwing  aside  the  paper.  "What  will 
happen  next?  The  old  prelate  is  not  a  man  to 
play  to  the  gallery.  Has  he  found  out  the  double 
dealing  of  Beauvais?  That  takes  a  burden  off 
my  shoulders — unless  he  goes  at  once  to  the 
duchy.  But  why  wasn't  the  cabinet  dismissed  ages 
ago?  It  is  now  too  late.  And  where  is  Prince 
Frederick  to  the  rescue?  There  is  something 
going  on,  and  what  it  is  only  the  archbishop  knows. 


296         THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

That  smile  of  his!  How  will  it  end?  I'd  like  to 
see  von  Mitter,  who  seems  to  be  a  good  gossip. 
And  that  poor,  friendless,  paralytic  king!  I  say, 
but  it  makes  the  blood  grow  warm." 

He  left  the  chair  and  paced  the  office  confines. 
Only  one  thing  went  echoing  through  his  brain, 
and  that  was  he  could  do  nothing.  The  sooner  he 
settled  down  in  the  attitude  of  a  spectator  the 
better  for  him.  Besides,  he  was  an  official  in  the 
employ  of  a  foreign  country,  and  it  would  be  the 
height  of  indiscretion  to  meddle,  even  in  a  private 
capacity.  It  would  be  to  jeopardize  his  diplomatic 
career,  and  that  would  be  ridiculous. 

A  porter  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"A  letter  for  your  Excellency." 

It  was  from  the  American  minister  in  Vienna. 

"My  dear  Carewe :  I  have  a  service  to  ask  of  JTOU.  The 
British  minister  is  worried  over  the  disappearance  of  a 
fellow-countryman,  Lord  Fitzgerald.  He  set  out  for  Blei- 
berg,  leaving  instructions  to  look  him  up  if  nothing  was 
heard  of  him  within  a  week.  Two  weeks  have  gone.  Know- 
ing you  to  be  in  Bleiberg,  I  believed  you  might  take  the 
trouble  to  look  into  the  affair.  The  British  ambassador 
hints  at  strange  things,  as  if  he  feared  foul  play.  I  shall 
have  urgent  need  of  you  by  the  first  of  October;  our  chanjt 
d'affaires  is  to  return  home  on  account  of  ill-health,  and 
your  appointment  to  that  office  is  a  matter  of  a  few  days." 

Maurice  whistled.  "That  is  good  news;  not 
Haine's  illness,  but  that  I  have  an  excuse  to  med- 
dle here.  I'll  telegraph  at  once.  And  I'll  take 
the  ride  besides."  He  went  to  his  room  and 
buckled  on*  his  spurs,  and  thoughtfully  slipped  his 
revolver  into  a  pocket.  "I  am  not  going  to  take 
any  chances,  even  in  the  dark."  Once  again  in 


THE     PUT  PET     CKOWN         297 

the  office,  he  stepped  up  to  the  desk  and  ordered 
his  horse  to  be  brought  around  to  the  cafe  en- 
trance. 

"Certainly,"  said  the  clerk.  Then  in  low  tones: 
"There  has  been  a  curious  exchange  in  saddles, 
Monsieur/' 

"Saddles?" 

"Yes.  The  saddle  in  your  stall  is,  curiously 
enough,  stamped  with  the  arms  of  the  house  of 
Auersperg.  How  that  military  saddle  came  into 
the  stables  is  more  than  the  grooms  can  solve." 

"0,"  said  Maurice,  with  an  assumption  of  care- 
lessness; "that  is  all  right.  It's  the  saddle  I  ar- 
rived on.  The  horse  and  saddle  belong  to  Madame 
the  duchess.  I  have  been  visiting  at  the  Eed 
Chateau.  I  shall  return  in  the  morning." 

"Ah,"  said  the  clerk,  with  a  furtive  smile  which 
Maurice  lost;  "that  accounts  for  the  mystery." 

"Here  are  two  letters  that  must  get  in  to-night's 
mails,"  Maurice  said;  "and  also  this  telegram 
should  be  sent  at  once." 

"As  Monsieur  desires.  Ah,  I  came  near  forget- 
ting. There  is  a  note  for  Monsieur,  which  came 
this  afternoon  while  Monsieur  was  asleep." 

The  envelope  was  unstamped,  and  the  scrawl  was 
unfamiliar  to  Maurice.  On  opening  it  he  was  sur- 
prised to  find  a  hurriedly  written  note  from  Fitz- 
gerald. In  all  probability  it  had  been  brought  by 
the  midnight  courier  on  his  return  from  the  duchy. 

"In  God's  name,  Maurice,  why  do  you  linger?  To-mor- 
row morning  those  consols  must  be  here  or  they  will  be 
useless.  Hasten ;  you  know  what  it  means  to  me. 

FITZGERALD." 


398         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

Maurice  perused  it  twice,  and  pulled  at  his  lips. 
"Madame  becomes  impatient.  Poor  devil.  Some- 
body is  likely  to  become  suddenly  rich  and  some- 
body correspondingly  poor.  What  will  they  say 
when  I  return  empty-handed  ?  Like  as  not  Madame 
will  accuse  me — and  Fitzgerald  will  believe  her ! 
.  .  .  The  archbishop !  That  accounts  for  this 
bold  move.  And  how  the  deuce  did  he  get  hold  of 
them?  I  give  up/'  And  his  shoulders  settled  in 
resignation. 

He  passed  down  into  the  cafe,  from  there  to  his 
horse,  which  a  groom  was  holding  at  the  curb.  He 
swung  into  the  saddle  and  tossed  a  coin  to  the 
man,  who  touched  his  cap. 

The  early  moon  lifted  its  silvery  bulk  above  the 
ragged  east,  and  the  patches  of  clouds  which 
swarmed  over  the  face  of  that  white  world  of  silence 
resembled  so  many  rooks.  Far  away,  at  the  farth- 
ermost shore  of  the  lake,  whenever  the  moon  went 
free  from  the  clouds,  Maurice  could  see  the  slim 
gray  line  of  the  road  which  stretched  toward  Italy. 

"It's  a  fine  night,"  he  mused,  glancing  heaven- 
ward. The  horse  answered  the  touch  of  the  spurs, 
and  cantered  away,  glad  enough  to  exchange  the 
close  air  of  the  stables  for  this  fresh  gift  of  the 
night.  Maurice  guided  him  around  the  palaces 
into  the  avenue,  which  derived  its  name  from  the 
founder  of  the  opera,  in  which  most  of  the  diplo- 
matic families  lived.  Past  the  residence  of 
Beauvais  he  went,  and,  gazing  up  at  the  lightless 
windows,  a  cold  of  short  duration  seiz:d  his  spine. 
It  had  been  a  hair's  breadth  betwixt  him  and  death. 
"Your  room,  Colonel,  is  better  than  you  company; 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         299 

and  hereafter  I  shall  endeavor  to  avoid  both.  I 
shall  feel  that  cursed  blade  of  yours  for  weeks  to 
come." 

Carriages  rolled  past  him.  A  gay  throng  in 
evening  dress  was  crowding  into  the  opera.  The 
huge  placard  announced,  "Norma — Mile.  Lenor- 
mand — Royal  Opera  Troupe."  How  he  would  have 
liked  to  hear  it,  with  Lenormand  in  the  title  role. 
He  laughed  as  he  recalled  the  episodes  in  Vienna 
which  were  associated  with  this  queen  of  song.  He 
waved  his  hand  as  the  opera  house  sank  in  the  dis- 
tance. "Au  revoir,  C6leste,  ma  charmante;  adieu." 
By  and  by  he  reached  the  deserted  part  of  the  city, 
and  in  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  branched  off 
into  the  broad  road  bordering  the  lake.  The  horse 
quickened  his  gait  as  he  felt  the  stone  of  the  streets 
no  longer  beneath  his  feet,  which  now  fell  with 
muffled  rhythm  on  the  sound  earth.  Maurice  shared 
with  him  the  delight  of  the  open  country,  and 
began  to  talk  to  the  animal. 

"A  fine  night,  eh,  old  boy?  I've  ridden  many 
backs,  but  none  easier  than  yours.  This  air  is  what 
gives  the  blood  its  color.  Too  bad;  you  ought  not 
to  belong  to  Madame.  She  will  never  think  as 
much  of  you  as  I  should." 

The  city  was  falling  away  behind,  and  a  yellow 
vapor  rose  over  it.  The  lake  tumbled  in  moonshine. 
Maurice  took  to  dreaming  again — hope  and  a 
thousand  stars,  love  and  a  thousand  dreams. 

"God  knows  I  love  her;  but  what's  the  use?  We 
can  not  all  have  what  we  want;  let  us  make  the 
best  of  what  we  have.  Philosophy  is  a  comfort  only 
to  old  age.  Why  should  youth  bother  to  reason 


300         THE     rUPPET     C  TJ  0  W  X 

why?  And  I — I  have  not  yet  outgrown  youth.  I 
believed  I  had,  but  I  have  not.  I  did  not  dream 
she  existed,  and  now  she  is  more  to  me  than  any- 
thing else  in  the  world.  Why;  I  wonder  why?  1 
look  into  a  pair  of  brown  eyes,  and  am  seized  with 
madness.  I  hope.  For  what  ?  0,  Bucephalus !  let 
us  try  to  wake  and  leave  the  dream  behind.  The 
gratitude  of  a  princess  and  a  dog  .  .  .  and 
for  this  a  rose.  Well,  it  will  prove  the  substance 
of  many  a  pipe,  many  a  kindly  pipe.  You  miss  a 
good  deal,  Bucephalus;  smoking  is  an  evil  habit 
only  to  those  who  have  not  learned  to  smoke." 

The  animal  replied  with  a  low  whinney,  and 
Maurice,  believing  that  the  horse  had  given  an  ear 
to  his  monologue,  laughed.  But  he  flattered  him- 
self. The  horse  whinneyed  because  he  inhaled  the 
faint  odor  of  his  kind.  He  drew  down  on  the  rein 
and  settled  into  a  swinging  trot,  which  to  Maurice'- 
surprise  was  faster  and  easier  than  the  canter. 
They  covered  a  mile  this  way,  when  Maurice's  rov- 
ing eye  discovered  moving  shadows,  perhaps  half  a 
mile  in  advance. 

"Hello !  we're  not  the  only  ones  jogging  along. 
Eh,  what's  that?"  Something  flashed  brightly. 
like  silver  reflecting  moonlight;  then  came  a  spark 
of  flame,  which  died  immediately,  am'  laler 
Maurice  caught  an  echo  which  resembled  the 
bursting  of  a  leaf  against  the  lips.  "Come:  that 
looks  like  a  pistol  shot." 

Again  the  flash  of  silver,  broader  and  clearer 
this  time;  and  Maurice  could  now  separate  the 
shadow-shapes.  A  carriage  of  some  sort  rolled  from 
side  to  side,  and  two  smaller  shadows  followed  i\? 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         301 

wild  flight.  One — two — three  times  Maurice  sa\v 
the  sparks  and  heard  the  faint  reports.  He  became 
excited.  Something  extraordinary  was  taking  place 
on  the  lonely  road.  Suddenly  the  top  of  the  car- 
riage replied  with  spiteful  flashes  of  red.  Then 
the  moon  came  out  from  behind  the  clouds,  and 
the  picture  was  vividly  outlined.  Two  continuous 
flashes  of  silver.  .  .  .  Cuirassiers!  Maurice 
loosened  the  rein,  and  the  horse  went  forward  as 
smoothly  as  a  sail.  The  distance  grew  visibly  less. 
The  carriage  opened  fire  again,  and  Maurice  heard 
the  sinister  m-m-m  of  a  bullet  winging  past  him. 

"The  wrong  man  may  get  hit,  Bucephalus,"  he 
said,  bending  to  the  neck  of  the  horse;  "which  is 
not  unusual.  You're  pulling  them  down,  old  boy; 
keep  it  up.  There's  trouble  ahead,  and  since  the 
cuirassiers  are  for.  the  king,  we'll  stand  by  the 
cuirassiers." 

On  they  flew,  nearer  and  nearer,  until  the 
pistol  shots  were  no  longer  echoes.  Two  other 
horsemen  came  into  view,  in  advance  of  the 
carriage.  Five  minutes  more  of  this  exciting 
chase,  and  the  faces  took  on  lines  and  grew  into 
features.  Up,  up  crept  the  gallant  little  horse,  his 
hoofs  rattling  against  the  road  like  snares  on  a 
drum.  When  within  a  dozen  rods,  Maurice  saw 
one  of  the  cuirassiers  turn  and  level  a  revolver  at 
him.  Fortunately  the  horse  swerved,  and  the  ball 
went  wide. 

"Don't  shoot!"  Maurice  yelled;  "don't  shoot!" 

The  face  he  saw  was  von  Mitter's.  His  heart 
(.-logged  in  his  throat,  not  at  the  danger  which 


302         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

threatened  him,  but  at  the  thought  of  what  that  car- 
riage might  contain. 

A  short  time  passed,  during  which  nothing  was 
heard  but  the  striking  of  galloping  hoofs  and  the 
rumble  of  the  carriage.  Maurice  soon  drew  abreast 
of  von  Mitter.  There  was  a  gash  on  the  latter's 
cheek,  and  the  blood  from  it  dripped  on  his  cuirass. 

"Close  for  you,  my  friend,"  he  gasped,  when  he 
recognized  the  new  arrival.  "Have  you — God!  my 
leg  that  time,"  with  a  groan. 

For  the  fire  of  the  carriage  had  spoken  again, 
and  true. 

Maurice  shut  his  teeth,  drew  his  revolver,  cocked 
it  and  applied  the  spurs.  With  a  bound  he  shot 
past  von  Mitter,  who  was  cursing  deeply  and  trying 
to  reload.  Maurice  did  not  propose  to  waste 
powder  on  the  driver,  but  was  determined  to  bring 
down  one  of  the  carriage  horses,  which  were  mar- 
velous brutes  for  speed.  Scharfenstein  kept  pop- 
ping away  at  the  driver,  but  without  apparent 
result.  Finally  Maurice  secured  the  desired  range. 
He  raised  the  revolver,  rested  the  barrel  between 
the  left  thumb  and  forefinger  and  pressed  the  trig- 
ger. The  nearest  carriage  horse  lurched  to  his 
knees,  a  bullet  in  his  brain,  dragging  his  mate  with 
him.  The  race  had  come  to  an  end. 

At  once  the  two  horsemen  in  front  separated; 
one  continued  toward  the  great  forest,  while  the 
other  took  to  the  hills.  Scharfenstein  started  in  pur- 
suit of  the  latter.  As  for  the  carriage,  it  came  to  an 
abrupt  stand.  The  driver  made  a  flying  leap 
toward  the  lake,  but  stumbled  and  fell,  and  before 
he  could  regain  his  feet  Maurice  was  off  his  horse 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         303 

i  . . 

and  on  his  quarry.  He  caught  the  fellow  by  the 
throat  and  pressed  him  to  the  earth,  kneeling  on 
his  chest. 

"Hold  him !"  cried  von  Mitter,  coming  up  with 
a  limp,  "hold  him  till  I  knock  in  his  head,  damn 
him !" 

"No,  no!"  said  Maurice,  "you  can't  get  informa- 
tion out  of  a  dead  man/' 

"It's  all  up  with  me,"  groaned  the  Lieutenant. 
"I'll  ask  for  my  discharge.  I  could  hit  nothing, 
my  hand  trembled.  I  was  afraid  of  shooting  into 
the  carriage." 

Maurice  turned  his  attention  to  the  man  beneath 
him.  "Now,  you  devil,"  he  cried,  "a  clean  breast 
of  it,  or  off  the  board  you  go.  0 !"  suddenly  peer- 
ing down.  "By  the  Lord,  so  it  is  you — you — you !" 
savagely  bumping  the  fellow's  head  against  the 
earth.  "Spy !" 

"You  are  killing  me !" 

"Small  matter.  Who  is  this  fellow?"  asked 
Maurice. 

"Johann  Kopf,  a  spy,  a  police  rat,  and  God  knows 
what  else,"  answered  von  Mitter,  limping  toward 
the  carriage.  "Curse  the  leg !"  He  forced  the  door 
and  peered  inside.  "Fainted !  I  thought  as  much." 
He  lifted  the  inanimate  bundle  which  lay  huddled 
in  between  the  seats  and  carried  it  to  the  side  of 
the  road,  where  he  tenderly  laid  it.  He  rubbed  the 
girl's  wrists,  unmindful  of  the  blood  which  fell 
from  his  face  and  left  dark  stains  on  her  dress. 
"Thank  God,"  heartily,  "that  her  Eoyal  Highness 
was  suffering  from  a  headache.  She  would  have 
died  from  fright." 


304         THE    PUPPET     CEOWN 

Maurice  felt  the  straining  cords  in  the  prisoner's 
neck  grow  limp.  The  rascal  had  fainted. 

"Not  her  Highness?"  Maurice  asked,  the  weight 
of  dread  lifting  from  his  heart. 

"No.  Her  Eoyal  Highness  sent  Camille,  her 
*naid  of  honor,  veiled  and  dressed  like  herself,  to 
play  an  innocent  jest  on  her  old  nurse.  Some  one 
shall  account  for  this;  for  they  mistook  Camille 
for  her  Highness.  I'm  going  to  wade  out  into  the 
water,"  von  Mitter  added,  staggering  to  his  feet. 

"You'll  never  get  off  your  boot,"  said  Maurice. 

"I'll  cut  it  off,"  was  the  reply,  "I  shall  faint  if 
I  do  not  cool  off  the  leg.  The  ball  is  somewhere 
in  the  calf."  And  he  waded  out  into  the  water  until 
it  reached  above  his  knees.  Thus  he  stood  for  a 
moment,  then  returned  to  the  maid,  who,  on  open- 
ing her  eyes,  screamed.  "It  is  all  over,  Camille," 
said  the  Lieutenant,  throwing  an  arm  about  her. 

"Your  face  is  bleeding!"  she  cried,  and  sank 
back  with  her  head  against  his  broad  breast. 

As  Maurice  gazed  at  the  pair  he  sighed.  There 
were  no  obstacles  here. 

Soon  Scharfenstein  came  loping  down  the  hill 
alone. 

"I  killed  his  horse,"  he  said,  in  response  to 
queries,  "but  he  fled  into  the  woods  where  I  could 
not  follow.  A  bad  night  for  us,  Carl,  a  bad  night," 
swinging  off  his  horse.  "A  boy  would  have  done 
better  work.  Whom  have  we  here?" 

"Kopf,"  said  Maurice,  "and  he  has  a  ball  some- 
where inside,"  holding  up  a  bloody  hand. 

"Kopf?"     Scharfenstein  cocked  his  revolver. 

The  maid  of  honor  placed  her  hands  over  her 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         305 

ears  and  screamed  again.  Max  gazed  at  her,  and, 
with  a  short,  Homeric  laugh,  lowered  the  revolver. 

"Any  time  will  do,"  he  said.  "Ah,  he  opens  his 
eyes." 

The  prisoner's  eyes  rolled  wildly  ahout.  That 
frowning  face  above  him  .  .  .  was  it  a  vision? 
Who  was  it  ?  What  was  he  doing  here  ? 

"Who  put  you  up  to  this?"  demanded  Maurice. 

"You  are  choking  me!" 

"Who,  I  say?" 

"Beauvais." 

Scharfenstein  and  von  Mitter  looked  at  each 
other  comprehensively. 

"Who  is  this  Beauvais?     Speak!" 

"I  am  dying,  Herr     .     .     .     Your  knees — " 

Maurice  withdrew  his  knees.  "Beauvais;  who 
is  he?" 

"Prince  .  .  .  Walmoden,  formerly  of  the 
emperor's  staff." 

Johann's  eyes  closed  again,  and  his  head  fell  to 
one  side. 

"He  looks  as  if  he  were  done  for,"  said  Maurice, 
standing  up.  "Let  us  clear  up  the  rubbish  and 
hitch  a  horse  to  the  carriage.  The  mate  's  all  right." 

Von  Mitter  assisted  the  maid  into  the  carriage 
and  seated  her. 

"Go  and  stay  with  her,"  said  Maurice,  brusquely; 
"you're  half  fainting." 

"You  are  very  handy,  Carewe,"  said  von  Mitter 
gratefully,  and  he  climbed  in  beside  the  maid,  who, 
her  fright  gone,  gave  way  to  womanly  instincts. 
She  took  her  kerchief  and  wiped  the  Lieutenant's 
cheek,  pressing  his  hand  in  hers  the  while. 


306         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

Maurice  and  Scharfenstein  worked  away  at  the 
traces,  and  dragged  the  dead  horse  to  the  side  of 
the  road.  Scharfenstein  brought  around  von  Mit- 
ter's  horse,  took  off  the  furnishings,  and  backed 
him  into  the  pole. 

Meanwhile  the  man  lying  by  the  water's  edge 
showed  signs  of  returning  life.  He  turned  his  head 
cautiously.  His  enemies  were  a  dozen  yards  away 
from  him.  Slowly  he  rolled  over  on  his  stomach, 
thence  to  his  knees.  They  were  paying  no  atten- 
tion to  him.  .  .  . 

"Ho,  there !  the  prisoner !"  cried  von  Mitter, 
tumbling  out  of  the  carriage.  He  tried  to  stand 
up,  but  a  numbness  seized  his  legs,  and  he  sank  to 
a  sitting  posture. 

Maurice  and  Scharfenstein  turned  too  late. 
Johann  had  mounted  on  Scharfenstein's  horse,  and 
was  flying  away  down  the  road.  Maurice  coolly 
leveled  his  revolver  and  sent  two  bullets  after  him. 
The  second  one  caused  Johann  to  straighten  stiffly, 
then  to  sink;  but  he  hung  on  to  the  horse. 

"Hurry!"  cried  Maurice;  "I've  hit  him  and  we'll 
find  him  along  the  road  somewhere." 

They  lifted  von  Mitter  into  the  carriage,  wheeled 
it  about,  and  Scharfenstein  mounted  the  box. 
Maurice  sprang  into  his  saddle,  and  they  clattered 
off  toward  the  city. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  LAST   STAND   OF   A   BAD   SERVANT 

The  cuirassiers  stationed  in  the  guardroom  of 
the  royal  palace  walked  gently  on  the  tiling,  when 
occasion  required  them  to  walk,  and  when  they  en- 
tered or  left  the  room,  they  were  particularly  care- 
ful to  avoid  the  chink  of  the  spur  or  the  clank 
of  the  saber.  Although  the  royal  bedchamber  was 
many  doors  removed,  the  Captain  had  issued  a 
warning  against  any  unnecessary  noise.  A  loud 
laugh,  or  the  falling  of  a  saber  carelessly  rested, 
drew  upon 'the  unlucky  offender  the  scowling  eyes 
of  the  commander,  who  reclined  in  front  of  the 
medieval  fireplace,  in  which  a  solitary  log  burned, 
and  brooded  over  past  and  present.  The  high 
revels  in  the  guardroom  were  no  more,  the  cui- 
rassiers were  no  longer  made  up  of  the  young 
nobles  of  the  kingdom;  they  were  now  merely 
watch  dogs. 

Twenty  years  ago  the  commander  had  come  from 
Dresden  as  an  instructor  in  arms,  and  after  the 
first  year  had  watched  over  the  royal  house- 
hold, in  the  service  of  the  late  king  and  the  king 
who  lay  dying.  He  had  come  of  good  family,  but 
others  had  come  of  better,  and  had  carried  off 
307 


308         THE     PUPPET     C  R  (MY  X 

court  honors,  though  his  post  in  early  days  hail 
been  envied  by  many.  He  was  above  all  else 
a  soldier,  the  embodiment  of  patience  and  integ- 
rity,  and  he  scorned  to  murmur  because  fortune 
had  passed  over  his  head.  As  he  sucked  at  hi* 
pipe,  he  recalled  the  days  of  Albrecht  and  his  opera 
singers,  the  court  scandals,  and  his  own  constant 
employment  as  messenger  in  the  king's  love  in- 
trigues. 

Albrecht  had  died  a  widower  and  childless, 
and  with  him  had  died  the  flower  of  court 
life.  The  courtiers  and  sycophants  had  flocked  to 
the  standard  of  the  duke,  and  had  remained  there, 
primarily  because  Leopold  of  Osia  promised  a 
sedate  and  exemplary  life.  Sometimes  the  Captain 
shook  his  head,  as  if  communing  with  some  un- 
pleasant thought.  On  each  side  of  him  sat  a  sol- 
dier, also  smoking  and  ruminating. 

At  the  mess  table  a  dozen  or  sa  whiled  awav 
the  time  at  cards.  The  wavering  lights  of  the 
candle  and  hearth  cast  warring  shadows  on  the 
wall  and  floor,  and  the  gun  and  saber  racks 
twinkled.  If  the  players  spoke,  it  was  in  to:i"> 
inaudible  to  the  Captain's  ears. 

"Our  bread  and  butter,"  said  the  Captain  softly, 
"are  likely  to  take  unto  themselves  the  proverbial 
wings  and  fly  away." 

Xo  one  replied.  The  Captain  was  a  man  who 
frequently  spoke  his  thoughts  aloud,  and  required 
no  one  to  reply  to  his  disjointed  utterances. 

"A  soldier  of  fortune,"  he  went  on,  "pins  his 
faith  and  zeal  to  standards  which  to-day  rise  and 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         309 

to-morrow  fall.  Unfortunately,  he  takes  it  at  flood 
tide,  which  immediately  begins  to  ebb." 

The  men  on  either  side  of  him  nodded  wisely. 

"The  king  can  no  longer  speak.  That  is  why 
the  archbishop  has  dismissed  the  cabinet.  Whilo 
he  could  speak,  his  Majesty  refused  to  listen  to 
the  downfall  of  his  enemies.  Why  ?  Look  to 
heaven;  heaven  only  can  answer.  How  many  men 
of  the  native  troops  are  quartered  in  these  build- 
ings? Not  one — which  is  bad.  Formerly  they 
were  in  the  majority.  Extraordinary.  His  Majesty 
would  have  made  friends  with  them,  but  the  arch- 
bishop, an  estimable  man  in  his  robes,  practically 
ostracized  them.  Bad,  very  bad.  Had  we  been 
comrades,  there  might  be  a  different  end. 

"Faugh !  if  one  of  us  sticks  his  head  into  the  city 
barracks  a  breath  of  ice  is  our  reward.  Kronau 
never  attends  the  receptions.  A  little  flattery, 
which  costs  nothing,  and  they  would  have  been 
willing  to  die  for  his  Majesty.  Now — "  He 
knocked  his  pipe  on  the  firedog.  "Now,  they 
would  not  lift  a  finger.  A  soldier  will  forgive  all 
things  but  premeditated  neglect. 

"As  for  me,  when  the  time  comes  I  shall  return 
to  Dresden  and  die  of  old  age.  Maybe,  though,  I 
shan't.  When  his  Majesty  dies  there  is  like  to  be 
a  clash.  The  duchess  is  a  clever  woman,  but  she 
would  make  a  balky  wife;  a  capillary  affection 
which  runs  in  the  family.  Red  hair  in  a  man  is 
useful;  in  a  woman  it  is  unmanageable."  He  re- 
filled his  pipe  and  motioned  toward  the  tongs.  The 
soldier  nearest  caught  up  a  brand  and  held  it  ant. 
The  Captain  laid  his  pipe  against  it  and  drew.  "It's 


310         THE    PUPPET    CROWN 

a  dreary  watch  I  have  from  ten  til]  daylight,  in 
his  Majesty':  ant  chamber,  bat  he  will  trust  no 
other  man  at  that  post."  And  with  this  he  fell 
into  silence. 

Some  time  passed.  Twice  the  Captain  pulled  out 
his  watch  and  looked  at  it.  Shortly  after  nine 
o'clock  the  beat  of  hoofs  came  up  the  driveway, 
and  the  Captain  turned  his  head  toward  the  entrance 
and  waited.  A  moment  later  the  door  opened  and 
three  men  stood  framed  in  the  doorway.  Two  of 
them — one  in  civilian  dress — were  endeavoring  to 
hold  up  a  third  between  them.  The  central  figure 
presented  an  alarming  picture.  His  cuirass  and 
white  trousers  were  splashed  with  blood,  and  his 
head  rolled  from  side  to  side,  almost  insensibly. 

"A  thousand  devils !"  exclaimed  the  Captain  at 
the  sight  of  this  unexpected  tableau.  He  sprang 
up,  toppling  over  his  chair.  "What's  this?  Von 
Mitter?  Blood?  Have  those  damned  students — " 

"A  brush  on  the  lake  road,"  interrupted  Sharf- 
enstein,  breathlessly.  "Help  him  over  to  a  chair, 
Monsieur  Carewe.  That's  it." 

"Have  you  a  knife,  Captain?"  asked  Maurice. 

The  Captain  whipped  out  his  knife,  locked  it, 
and  gave  it  to  Maurice.  "Riemer,"  he  called  to 
one  of  the  cuirassiers,  who  were  rising  from  the 
mess  table,  "bring  out  your  box  of  instruments; 
and  you,  Scharfenstein,  a  basin  of  cold  water. 
Quick!" 

Maurice  knelt  and  deftly  cut  away  the  Lieuten- 
ant's boot.  A  pool  of  blood  collected  on  the  floor. 

"God  save  us!"  cried  the  Captain,  "his  boot  is 
full  of  blood."  He  turned  to  Scharfenstein,  who 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         311 

was  approaching  with  the  basin.  "What  has  hap- 
pened, Max?" 

Scharfenstein  briefly  explained. 

"And  Kopf?" 

"Got  away,  curse  him !" 

"And  the  others?"  with  a  lowering  brow. 

"They  all  got  away,"  adding  an  oath  under  his 
breath.  Max  set  the  basin  on  the  floor. 

"Bad,  very  bad.     Why  didn't  you  shoot?" 

"He  was  afraid  of  hitting  Mademoiselle  Bache- 
lier,"  Maurice  interposed. 

Max  threw  him  a  grateful  look. 

"Humph !"  The  Captain  called  his  men  around 
him.  "Two  of  you — .  But  wait.  Who's  back  of 
Kopf?" 

"Our  distinguished  Colonel,"  snapped  Max,  "who 
was  this  day  relieved  "of  his  straps.  A  case  of  re- 
venge, probably." 

"Beauvais !  Ah,  ah !"  The  Captain  smiled 
grimly.  He  had  always  hated  Beauvais,  who  had, 
for  no  obvious  reason,  passed  him  and  grasped  the 
coveted  colonelcy,  and  because,  curiously  enough, 
the  native  troops  had  made  an  idol  of  him. 
"Beauvais?  I  am  not  surprised.  An  adventurer, 
with  neither  kith  nor  country." 

"He  is  Prince  Walmoden,"  said  Maurice,  "and 
for  some  reason  not  known,  the  emperor  has  prom- 
ised to  recall  him." 

This  information  caused  the  Captain  to  step 
back,  and  he  muttered  the  name  several  times. 
"Austria.  ..."  A  gloom  settled  on  his  face. 
"No  matter.  Prince  or  no  prince,  or  had  he  one 
thousand  emperors  behind  him,  no  matter.  Four 


312         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

of  you  seek  him  and  arrest  him.  If  he  offers  re- 
sistance, knock  him  on  the  head,  but  arrest  him. 
A  traitor  is  without  name,  country  or  respect.  His 
purpose  .  .  .  Never  mind. 

"Four  of  you  seek  for  Kopf.  Look  into  Stiiler's, 
in  at  the  opera,  and  follow  Kopf's  woman  home. 
I'll  take  it  upon  myself  to  telegraph  the  frontier 
to  allow  no  one  to  cross  on  the  pain  of  being  shot. 
Pass  the  word  to  the  officers  in  the  stables.  Hurry 
away  before  the  archbishop  hears  of  the  matter. 
Away  with  you,  and  quietly.  And  one  of  you  seek 
that  blockhead  of  a  coachman,  who  did  not  know 
enough  to  come  back  here  and  inform  us.  Beauvais, 
make  him  a  prisoner,  you  are  not  to  know  why. 
As  for  Kopf,  dead  or  alive — alive  will  be  less  con- 
venient for  all  concerned.  Off  with  you !" 

The  guardroom  was  at  once  emptied,  and  the 
cuirassiers  turned  off  toward  the  stables,  where  the 
main  body  of  the  troops  was  stationed. 

Riemer,  who  was  both  surgeon  and  soldier,  probed 
the  wound  in  von  Hitter's  leg  and  extracted  the 
bullet,  which  had  lodged  in  the  fleshy  part  of  the 
calf.  He  applied  cold  water,  lints  and  bandages. 
All  the  while  von  Mitter  sat  in  the  chair,  his 
eyes  shut  and  his  lips  closed  tightly. 

"There!"  said  the  surgeon,  standing  up,  "that's 
better.  The  loss  of  blood  is  the  worst  part  of  it.'' 
Next  he  took  a  few  stitches  in  the  cut  on  the 
cheek  and  threw  his  cloak  over  the  wounded  man's 
knee.  "He'll  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  so,  though 
he'll  limp.  Carl?" 

"0,  I'm  sound  enough,"  answered  von  Mitter, 
opening  his  eyes.  "A  little  weak  in  the  knees, 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         313 

that's  all.  I  shouldn't  have  given  in,  only  Kopf 
got  away  when  we  had  him  fair  and  fast.  We 
found  his  horse  wandering  about  the  Frohngarten, 
but  no  sign  of  Johann.  He's  got  it,  though,  square 
in  the  back." 

"I'm  sure  of  it,"  said  Maurice,  who  leaned  over 
the  back  of  the  speaker's  chair. 

The  Captain  eyed  him  inquiringly. 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Scharfenstein.  "Captain, 
Monsieur  Carewe,  an  American  tourist,  formerly 
of  the  United  States  cavalry.  And  a  pretty  shot, 
too,  by  the  book !  It  would  have  gone  badly  with 
us  but  for  him." 

"My  thanks,"  said  the  Captain,  with  a  jerky  nod. 
"Max,  come,  give  me  the  whole  story." 

And  Scharfenstein  dropped  into  a  chair  and  re- 
counted in  picturesque  diction  the  adventure;  how 
they  had  remained  by  the  royal  carriage  till  the 
nurse,  recovering  from  her  faint,  had  rushed  out 
and  told  them  of  the  abduction;  and  the  long  race 
on  the  south  shore.  While  he  listened  the  Cap- 
tain smoked  thoughtfully;  and  when  the  story  was 
done,  he  rose  and  wagged  his  head. 

"Call  it  revenge,"  he  said,  "if  it  strikes  you  in 
that  light.  Monsieur  Carewe,  what  is  your  opin- 
ion ?" 

"It  occurs  to  me,"  answered  Maurice,  rubbing 
the  scratch  the  late  Colonel's  sword  had  left  on 
his  chin,  "it  occurs  to  me  that  the  man  played  his 
hand  a  few  days  too  late." 

"Which  is  to  say?" 

"Well,  I  do  not  call  it  revenue."  Maurice  admit- 
ted, unwilling  to  venture  any  theory. 


3U         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

"No  more  do  I;"  and  the  Captain  began  drum- 
ming on  the  mantel.  "What  say,  Max;  how  would 
the  illustrious  Colonel  look  with  the  shadow  of  a 
crown  on  his  head?  He  comes  from  Austria,  who, 
to  my  thinking,  is  cognizant  of  all  he  does  and 
has  done." 

The  answer  was  not  spoken.  The  door,  leading 
to  the  main  palace  through  the  kitchens,  opened, 
and  the  Marshal,  the  princess,  and  the  maid  of 
honor  came  down  the  steps.  The  Captain,  Max  and 
the  surgeon  stood  at  salute.  Maurice,  however,  drew 
back  into  the  shadows  at  the  side  of  the  grate. 
The  old  soldier  gazed  down  at  the  pale  face  of 
the  young  Lieutenant,  and  smiled  kindly. 

"Even  the  best  of  soldiers  make  mistakes,"  he 
said;  "even  the  best.  No,"  as  von  Mitter  made 
an  attempt  to  speak.  "I've  heard  all  about  it,  and 
from  a  most  reliable  source,"  nodding  toward  the 
anxious  maid  of  honor.  "Colonel,"  he  addressed 
the  Captain,  whose  eyes  started  at  this  appel- 
lation, "Colonel,  you  will  report  to  me  in  the 
morning  to  assume  your  new  duties.  You  have 
been  a  faithful  Captain  and  a  good  soldier.  I 
know  your  value,  your  name  and  your  antecedents, 
which  till  now  was  more  than  I  knew  of  your  late 
predecessor.  Von  Mitter  will  take  upon  himself 
your  duties  as  Captain  of  the  household  troop;  and 
you,  Scharfenstein,  will  hereafter  take  charge  of 
her  Royal  Highness's  carriage,  and  you  may  choose 
whom  you  will  as  your  comrade." 

"I  have  always  tried  to  do  my  duty,"  said  von 
Mitter.  He  felt  a  small  hand  secretly  press  his. 

"And  you  have  always  succeeded,  Captain,"  said 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         315 

a  voice  which  made  Maurice's  foolish  heart  leap. 
"See,  I  am  the  first  to  give  you  your  new  rank. 
How  you  must  suffer !" 

"God  bless  your  Royal  Highness !"  murmured  the 
fellow,  at  once  racked  with  pain  and  happiness. 
"But  I  am  not  the  one  you  must  thank  for  this 
night's  work." 

The  Marshal  peered  at  the  silent  figure  beyond 
the  fireplace.  Maurice  was  compelled  to  stand 
forth.  "Ah!"  said  the  Marshal. 

"Yes,"  went  on  von  Mitter,  "but  for  him  no 
one  knows  what  the  end  might  have  been.  And 
I,  thinking  him  one  of  the  abducting  party  com- 
ing up  from  the  rear,  shot  at  him." 

The  princess  took  a  step  forward,  anxiety  widen- 
ing her  dark  eyes;  and  the  swift  glance  added  to 
the  fever  in  the  recipient's  veins.  .  .  .  How 
beautiful  she  was,  and  how  far  away!  He  laid  his 
hand  on  the  top  of  von  Mitter's  chair. 

"Monsieur  Carewe,"  said  the  Marshal,  "seems 
to  have  plenty  of  leisure  time  on  his  hands — for- 
tunately for  us.  You  were  not  hit?" 

"0,  no,"  said  Maurice,  blushing.  He  had  dis- 
cerned an  undercurrent  of  raillery  in  the  Marshal's 
tones.  "The  ball  came  close  to  my  ear,  that  was 
all.  It  is  strange  how  that  fellow  got  away.  I 
am  positive  that  I  hit  him." 

"We  shall  find  him,"  said  the  Marshal,  with  a 
look  at  the  newly-appointed  Colonel  which  said: 
"Your  straps  hang  in  the  balance."  He  rubbed 
his  nose.  "Well,  is  your  Royal  Highness  satisfied 
that  there  is  no  danger?" 

"Yes,  Marshal;  but  think,  if  he  should  have  been 


316         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

killed!  Ah,  what  does  it  all  mean?  What  had 
this  man  against  me,  who  have  always  been  kind 
to  him?" 

"We  shall,  with  your  Highness's  permission,"  said 
the  Marshal,  "leave  all  questions  to  the  future. 
Let  us  return  to  the  archbishop,  who  is  doubt- 
less awaiting  the  news.  Take  good  care  of  your- 
self, Captain.  To-morrow,  Colonel;  good  evening 
to  you,  Monsieur  Carewe;"  and  the  terse  old  sol- 
dier proceeded  to  the  door  and  held  it  open  for 
the  women. 

"Good  night,  Messieurs,"  said  her  Highness.  "I 
shall  not  forget.  Thanks  to  you.  Captain."  One 
more  glance,  and  she  was  gone.  But  this  glance 
blossomed  in  one  heart  into  a  flower  of  hope. 

The  Marshal,  having  closed  the  door  behind  the 
women,  returned  to  the  group  before  the  fireplace. 
They  watched  him  interestedly. 

"Colonel,"  he  said,  "make  no  effort  to  seek 
Beauvais.  As  for  Kopf,  that  is  different.  But 
Beauvais — " 

"To  let  him  go?"  exclaimed  the  Colonel  in  dis- 
may. 

"Aye,  to  let  him  go.  We  do  not  seek  bears 
with  birdshot,  and  that  is  all  we  have.  He  will 
leave  the  country." 

"And  go  to  the  duchy!" 

"So  much  the  better;  when  the  time  conies,  our 
case  against  him  will  be  so  much  the  stronger. 
Mind  you,  this  is  not  from  sentiment.  I  have 
none,"  glaring  around  to  see  if  any  dared  refute 
this  assertion.  "It  is  policy,  and  Monseigneur  con- 
curs with  me." 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         317 

"But  I  have  sent  men  after  him !"  cried  the 
Colonel,  in  keen  disappointment. 

"Send  men  after  them  to  rescind  the  order." 

"And  if  they  should  catch  him?" 

"Let  him  go;  that  is  my  order.  The  servant 
will  be  sufficient  for  our  needs.  Monsieur  Carewe, 
I  rely  on  your  discretion;"  and  the  Marshal  passed 
into  the  kitchens. 

The  men  looked  at  each  other  in  silence.  A 
moment  later  the  Colonel  dashed  from  the  room, 
off  to  the  stables. 

"Well,  I'm  off,"  said  Maurice.  The  desire  to 
tell  what  he  knew  was  beginning  to  master  him. 
It  was  too  late  now,  he  saw  that.  Besides, 
they  might  take  it  into  their  heads  to  detain  him. 
He  put  on  his  hat.  "Good  night;  and  good  luck 
to  your  leg,  Captain." 

"Till  to-morrow,"  said  von  Mitter,  who  had 
taken  a  fancy  to  the  smooth-faced  young  Amer- 
ican, who  seemed  at  home  in  all  places. 

"I  am  going  away  to-morrow,"  said  Maurice, 
pressing  the  Lieutenant's  hand.  "I  shall  return  in 
a  day  or  so." 

He  led  his  horse  to  the  hotel  stables,  lit  a  fresh 
cigar  and  promenaded  the  terrace.  "Some  day," 
he  mused,  "perhaps  I'll  be  able  to  do  something 
for  myself.  To-morrow  we'll  take  a  look  at 
Fitzgerald's  affairs,  like  the  good  fairy  we  are.  If 
the  Colonel  is  there,  so  much  the  worse  for  one  or 
the  other  of  us."  He  laughed  contentedly.  "Beau- 
vais  took  my  warning  and  lit  out,  or  his  hench- 
man would  never  have  made  a  botch  of  the  ab- 
duction. It  is  my  opinion  that  Madame  wanted 


318         THE    PUPPET     CHOWS 

a  hostage,  for  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  that  the 
man  made  the  attempt  on  his  own  responsibility. 
I  shall  return  to  the  duchy  in  a  semi-official  char- 
acter as  an  envoy  extraordinary  to  look  into  the 
whereabouts  of  one  Lord  Fitzgerald.  Devil  take 
me,  but  I  did  make  a  mess  of  it  when  I  slapped 
him  on  the  shoulder  that  night."  The  princess 
had  not  addressed  a  word  to  him.  Why? 

When  the  princess  and  her  maid  of  honor  had 
passed  through  the  kitchens  into  the  princess's 
boudoir,  the  maid  suddenly  caught  her  mistress's 
hand  and  imprinted  a  hasty  kiss  on  it,  to  the  lat- 
ter's  surprise  and  agitation.  There  was  something 
in  that  kiss  which  came  nearer  to  sincere  affection 
than  Mademoiselle  Bachelier  had  ever  shown  be- 
fore. 

"Camille?" 

"God  bless  your  Highness !''  whispered  the  girl, 
again  pressing  the  cold  hand  to  her  lips.  What 
had  given  rise  to  this  new-born  affection  she  her- 
self could  not  say,  but  a  sudden  wave  of  pity- 
rushed  into  her  heart.  Perhaps  it  was  because  she 
loved  and  was  loved  that  caused  this  expansion 
of  heart  toward  her  mistress,  who  was  likely  never 
to  love  or  beget  love,  who  stood  so  lonely.  Tears 
came  into  her  eyes. 

"You  are  hysterical !"  said  the  princess. 

"No;  it  is  because — because — "  She  stopped 
and  a  blush  suffused  her  face  and  temples. 

The  princess  took  the  face  between  her  hands 
and  gazed  long  and  earnestly  into  it.  "Have  you 
discovered  a  belated  pity  in  your  heart  for  me? 


THE     PUPPET     CR'OWN         319 

Or  is  it  because  you  thought  him  wounded  unto 
death,  and  he  was  not?" 

"It  is  both !"  weeping. 

The  princess  put  her  arms  around  the  maid. 
"And  you  weep  for  happiness?  Let  us  weep  to- 
gether, then;  only — I  can  not  weep  for  happi- 
ness." 

To  return  to  the  flight  of  Kopf.  As  he  dashed 
down  the  road  he  heard  two  reports.  At  the  sec- 
ond he  experienced  a  terrible  burning  blow  under 
the  right  shoulder-blade,  and  immediately  his  arm 
became  paralyzed.  He -coughed.  With  a  supreme 
effort  he  managed  to  recover  his  balance.  Already 
his  collar-bone  had  been  cracked  by  a  bullet  either 
from  von  Mitter  or  from  Scharfenstein. 

"God's  curse  on  them  all !"  he  sobbed,  pushing 
his  knees  into  his  horse;  "God's  curse!"  He  bit 
his  lips;  and  when  he  drew  his  breath  the  pain 
which  followed  almost  robbed  him  of  his  senses. 
Behind  him  the  sound  of  hoofs  came  no  nearer; 
he  had  a  chance.  He  could  not  look  back  to  see 
if  he  gained,  however,  as  his  neck  was  stiffening. 

"Curse  him  and  his  damned  gold !  He  never 
warned  me  as  he  said  he  would."  On  he  rode. 
The  moon  became  obscured,  and  when  it  flashed 
again  he  could  see  it  but  indistinctly.  ...  To 
reach  the  city,  to  reach  Gertrude's,  to  give  the 
horse  a  cut  and  send  him  adrift,  this  was  his  en- 
deavor. But  would  he  reach  the  city — alive? 
Was  he  dying?  He  could  not  see  ...  Yet 
again  he  shut  his  jaws  and  drew  on  his  entire 
strength.  He  was  keeping  in  the  saddle  by  will 
power  alone.  If  the  horse  faltered  he  was  lost. 


320         T  H  E  •  P  U  P  P  E  T     GROWN 

To  Gertrude;  she  could  use  them.  And  after  all 
he  loved  her.  If  he  died  she  would  be  provided 
for. 

The  first  of  the  city  lamps.  He  sobbed.  Into 
this  street  he  turned,  into  that,  expecting 
each  moment  to  be  challenged,  for  the  white 
saddle  blanket  of  the  cuirassiers  stood  out 
conspicuously.  At  last  he  had  but  a  corner  to 
turn.  He  stopped,  slid  from  the  saddle  and  gave 
the  animal  a  cut  across  the  face.  The  horse  reared, 
then  plunged  forward  at  a  wild  gallop.  Johann 
staggered  along  the  street,  fumbling  in  his  pockets 
for  his  keys. 

Gertrude  of  the  opera  company  was  usually  in 
the  ballet.  To-night  she  had  left  the  stage  after 
the  first  dance.  She  had  complained  of  a  severe 
headache,  and  as  the  manager  knew  her  worth 
he  had  permitted  her  withdrawal  from  the  corps. 
She  lived  off  the  Frohngarten,  in  an  apartment 
on  the  second  floor,  over  a  cheap  restaurant.  She 
was  bathing  her  temples  in  perfumed  ammonia 
water,  when  she  heard  footsteps  in  the  corridor, 
and  later  the  rasp  of  a  key  in  the  lock.  As  the 
door  opened  she  beheld  a  spectacle  which  caused 
her  to  scream. 

"Hush!  Gertrude,  I  am  dying.  .  .  .  Brandy! 
I  must  talk  to  you !  Silence  !"  Johann  tottered  to 
a  lounge  and  dropped  on  his  side. 

The  woman,  still  trembling  with  fright  and 
terror,  poured  into  her  palm  some  of  the  pungent 
liquid  with  which  she  had  been  bathing  her  tem- 
ples, and  held  it  under  his  nose.  It  revived  him. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         321 

And   in   a    few  broken   sentences   he   made   known 
to  her  what  had  happened. 

"Gertrude,  I  am  lost!"  He  breathed  with  dif- 
ficulty. "I  have  lived  like  a  rascal,  and  I  die  like 
one.  But  I  have  always  loved  you;  I  have  always 
been  true  to  you;  I  have  never  beaten  nor  robbed 
you."  His  eyes  closed. 

"0  God,"  she  cried,  "what  shall  I  do?  Johann, 
you  must  not  die !  Wo  will  leave  the  country  to- 
gether. Johann,  you  do  not  speak!  Johann!"  She 
kissed  him,  pressed  him  in  her  arms,  regardless  of 
the  stains  which  these  frantic  fondlings  gathered 
from  his  breast.  "Johann  !" 

"Rich,"  he  said  dreamily;  "rich  .  .  .  and 
to  die  like  a  dog !" 

She  left  him  and  rushed  to  the  sideboard,  poured 
out  a  tumbler  of  brandy,  and  returned  to  his  side. 
She  raised  his  head,  but  he  swallowed  with  effort. 

"In  the  lungs,"  he  said.  "God!  how  it  burns! 
Rich;  we  are  rich,  Gertrude;  a  hundred  thousand 
crowns.  .  .  .  And  I  am  dying! 
What  a  failure !  Curse  them  all ;  they  never  of- 
fered to  lend  a  hand  unless  it  led  toward  hell !  Ger- 
trude ...  I  must  tell  you.  Here;  here,  put 
your  hand  in  this  pocket;  yes.  Draw  them  out. 
.  .  .  .  A  hundred  thousand  crowns!" 

The  woman  shuddered.  Her  hand  and  what  it 
held  were  wet  with  blood. 

"Hide  them!"  And  Johann  fainted  away  for 
the  second  time.  When  he  came  to  his  senses,  sev- 
eral minutes  had  passed.  Quickly,  with  what  re- 
maining strength  he  had,  he  unfolded  his  plan. 

And    her    one    idea     was     to     save    him.     She 


322         THE    PUPPET     C  II  0  W  X 

drenched  her  handkerchief  with  the  ammonia,  and 
bade  him  hold  it  to  his  nose,  while  she  fetched  a 
basin  of  water  and  a  sponge.  Tenderly  she  drew 
back  his  coat  and  washed  the  blood  from  his 
throat  and  lips,  and  moistened  his  hair. 

"Listen !"  he  cried  suddenly,  rising  on  his  elbow. 
"It  is  they !  They  have  found  me !  Quick !  to 
the  roof!"  He  struggled  to  his  feet,  with  that 
strength  which  imparts  itself  to  dying  men,  super- 
human while  it  lasts.  He  threw  one  arm  around 
her  neck.  "Help  me!" 

And  thus  they  gained  the  hall,  mounted  the 
flight  to  the  roof,  he  groaning  and  urging,  she  sob- 
bing, hysterical,  and  frenzied.  She  climbed  the 
ladder  with  him,  threw  back  the  trap,  and  helped 
him  on  the  roof. 

"Now  leave  me  I"  he  said,  kissing  her  hand. 

She  gave  him  her  lips,  and  went  down  to  her 
rooms,  and  waited  and  waited.  This  agony 
of  suspense  lasted  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  again 
came  the  clatter  of  hoofs.  Would  this,  too,  prove 
a  false  alarm?  She  held  her  hand  to  her  ear. 
If  he  were  dying.  .  .  .  They  had  stopped ;  they 
were  mounting  the  stairs;  0  God,  they  were  beating 
on  the  door ! 

"Open!"  cried  a  voice  without;  "open  ir,  the 
king's  name!" 

She  gasped,  but  words  would  not  come.  She 
clenched  her  hands  until  the  nails  sank  into  the 
flesh. 

"Open,  Madame,  or  down  comes  the  door." 

The  actress  in  her  came  to  the  rescue.  The  calm 
of  despair  took  possession  of  her. 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWN         323 

"In  a  moment,  Messieurs,"  she  said.  Her  voice 
was  without  agitation.  She  opened  the  door  and 
the  cuirassiers  pushed  past  her.  "In  heaven's 
name,  Messieurs,  what  does  this  mean?" 

"We  want  Johann  Kopf,"  was  the  answer, 
''and  we  have  it  from  good  authority  that  he 
is  here.  Do  not  interfere  with  us;  you  are  in  no 
wise  connected  with  the  affair." 

"He  is  not  here,"  she  replied.  She  wondered  at 
herself,  her  tones  were  so  even,  her  mind  was  so 
clear. 

One  of  the  cuirassiers  caught  up  her  gown. 
''What's  this,  Madame?"  he  demanded,  pointing 
to  the  dark  wet  stains;  "and  this?"  to  her  hands, 
"and  this?"  to  the  spots  on  the  carpet,  the  basin 
and  the  sponge.  "To  the  roof,  men;  he  has  gone 
by  the  roof!  Up  with  you!" 

The  ballet  dancer  held  forth  her  hands  in  sup- 
plication; life  forsook  her  limbs;  she  sank. 

The  cuirassiers  rushed  to  the  roof.  .  .  . 
When  they  came  down  it  was  slowly  and  carefully. 
What  they  had  found  on  the  roof  was  of  no  use  to 
them.  They  laid  the  inanimate  thing  on  the 
lounge,  and  frowned.  One  of  the  cuirassiers  lifted 
the  ballet  dancer  and  carried  her  into  her  bed- 
room, and  laid  her  on  the  bed.  He  had  not  the 
heart  to  revive  her.  Death  softens  all  angers; 
even  an  enemy  is  no  longer  such  when  dead.  And 
Johann  Kopf  was  dead. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A       COURT     FETE    AT     THE     RED    CHATEAU 

At  eight  o'clock  of  the  following  evening,  that  is  to 
say,  the  nineteenth  of  September,  Maurice  mounted 
the  Thalian  pass  and  left  the  kingdom  in  the  valley 
behind  him.  He  was  weary,  dusty,  lame  and  out 
of  humor;  besides,  he  had  a  new  weight  on  his  con- 
science. The  night  before  he  had  taken  the  life 
of  a  man.  True,  this  had  happened  before,  but 
always  in  warfare.  He  had  killed  in  a  moment  of 
rage  and  chagrin  a  poor  devil  who  was  at  most 
only  a  puppet.  There  was  small  credit  in  the  per- 
formance. However,  the  rascal  would  have  suf- 
fered death  in  any  event,  his  act  being  one  of  high 
treason. 

In  the  long  ride  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
lock  away  forever  the  silly  dream,  the  tender, 
futile,  silly  dream.  All  men  die  with  secrets 
locked  in  their  hearts;  thus  he,  too,  would  die. 
His  fancy  leaped  across  the  chasm  of  intervening 
years  to  the  day  of  his  death,  and  the  thought  was 
a  happy  one !  He  smiled  sadly,  as  young  men 
smile  when  they  pity  themselves.  He  knew  that 
he  would  never  get  over  it — in  a  day.  But  to- 
morrow, or  to-morrow's  to-morrow  .  . 
324 


THE     PUPPET     CROWX         325 

He  took  the  pass's  decline;  the  duchy  spread 
away  toward  the  south.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  below 
him  he  saw  the  barrack  and  the  customs  office 
which  belonged  to  Madame  the  duchess.  The  cor- 
poral inspected  him  and  his  papers,  spoke  lowly 
to  the  customs  inspector,  who  returned  to  his  office. 

"It  is  all  right,  Monsieur  Carewe,"  said  the  cor- 
poral; "I  ought  to  recognize  the  horse  a  mile 
away.  You  will  arrive  just  in  time." 

"Just  in  time  for  what?" 

"Ah,  true.  Her  Highness  gives  a  grand  ball  at 
the  chateau  to-night.  The  court  has  arrived  from 
Brunnstadt.  Some  will  reside  at  the  chateau, 
some  at  General  Duckwitz's,  others  at  the  Countess 
Herzberg's." 

"Has  the  duchess  arrived  at  last,  then?"  was 
the  cynical  inquiry. 

"She  will  arrive  this  evening,"  answered  the 
corporal,  grinning.  "A  pleasant  journey  to  you." 

Maurice  proceeded.  "And  that  blockhead  of 
an  Englishman  has  not  tumbled  yet !  The  court 
here?  A  grand  ball?  What  else  can  it  mean 
but  that  Madame  is  celebrating  a  victory  to  come? 
If  the  archbishop  has  those  consols,  she  will  wage 
war;  and  this  is  the  prelude."  He  jogged  along. 
He  had  accomplished  a  third  of  the  remaining  dis- 
tance, when  he  was  challenged.  The  sentry  came 
forward  and  scrutinized  the  rider. 

"0,  it  is  Monsieur  Carewe!"  he  cried  in  de- 
lighted tones.  He  touched  his  cap  and  fell  back 
into  the  shadows. 

A  mile  farther,  and  the  great  chateau,  scintil- 
lating with  lights,  loomed  up  against  the  yellow 


326         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

sky.  He  felt  a  thrill  of  excitement.  Doubtless 
there  would  be  some  bright  passages  before  the 
night  drew  to  a  close.  He  would  make  furious 
love  to  the  pretty  countess;  it  would  be  something 
in  the  way  of  relaxation.  How  would  they  greet 
him?  What  would  be  Madame's  future  plans  in 
regard  to  Fitzgerald?  How  would  she  get  him 
out  of  the  way,  now  that  he  had  served  her  pur- 
pose? He  laughed. 

"The  future  promises  much,"  he  said,  half 
aloud.  "I  am  really  glad  that  I  came  back." 

"Halt !" 

Maurice  drew  up.  A  sentry  stepped  out  into 
the  road. 

"0,  it  is  Monsieur  Carewe!"  he  cried.  With 
a  short  laugh  he  disappeared. 

"Hang  me,"  grumbled  Maurice  as  he  went  on, 
"these  fellows  have  remarkable  memories.  I  can't 
recollect  any  of  them."  He  was  mystified. 

Shortly  he  came  upon  the  patrol.  The  leader 
ordered  him  to  dismount,  an  order  he  obeyed  will- 
ingly, for  he  was  longing  to  stand  again.  He 
shook  his  legs,  while  the  leader  struck  a  match. 

"Why,  it  is  Monsieur  Carewe  !"  he  cried.  "Good ! 
We  are  coming  out  to  meet  you.  This  is  a  pleas- 
ure indeed." 

Maurice  gazed  keenly  into  the  speaker's  face, 
and  to  his  surprise  beheld  the  baron  whose  arm 
he  had  broken  a  fortnight  since.  He  climbed  on 
his  horse  again. 

"I  am  glad  you  deem  it  a  pleasure,  baron,"  he 
said  dryly.  "From  what  you  imply,  I  should  judge 
that  you  were  expecting  me." 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         327 

"Nothing  less !  Your  departure  from  Bleiberg 
was  known  to  us  as  early  as  two  o'clock  this  after- 
noon," answered  the  baron.  "Permit  us  to  es- 
cort you  to  the  chateau  before  the  ladies  see  you. 
'Tis  a  gala  night ;  we  are  all  in  our  best  bib  and 
tucker,  as  the  English  say.  We  believed  at  one 
time  that  you  were  not  going  to  honor  us  with 
a  second  visit.  Now  to  dress,  both  of  us;  at  ten 
Madame  the  duchess  arrives  with  General  Duck- 
witz  and  Colonel  Mollendorf,  who  is  no  relation 
to  the  late  minister  of  police  in  Bleiberg." 

Underneath  all  this  Maurice  discerned  a  shade 
of  mockery,  and  it  disturbed  him. 

"First,  I  should  like  to  know — "  he  began. 

"Later,  later!"  cried  the  baron.  "The  gates 
are  but  a  dozen  rods  away.  To  your  room  first; 
the  rest  will  follow." 

"The  only  clothes  I  have  with  -me  are  on  my 
back,"  said  Maurice. 

"We  shall  arrange  that.  Your  guard-hussar 
uniform  has  been  reserved  for  you,  at  the  sugges- 
tion of  the  Colonel." 

And  Maurice  grew   more   and   more   disturbed. 

"Were  they  courteous  to  you  on  the  road?" 

"Yes.     But—" 

"Patience !     Here  we  are  at  the   rear  gates." 

Maurice  found  it  impossible  to  draw  back; 
three  troopers  blocked  the  rear,  the  baron  and  an- 
other rode  at  his  sides,  and  four  more  were  in 
advance.  The  rear  gates  swung  open,  and  the 
little  troop  passed  into  the  chateau  confines.  Mau- 
rice snatched  a  glimpse  of  the  front  lawns  and 
terraces.  The  trees  and  walls  were  hung  with 


328 


Chinese  lanterns;  gay  uniforms  and  shimmering 
gowns  flitted  across  his  vision.  Somewhere  with- 
in the  chateau  an  orchestra  was  playing  the  over- 
ture from  "Linda  di  Chamounix."  Indeed,  with 
all  these  brave  officers,  old  men  in  black  bedecked 
with  ribbons,  handsome  women  in  a  brilliant  sparkle 
of  jewels,  it  had  the  semblance  of  a  gay  court. 
It  was  altogether  a  different  scene  from  that 
which  was  called  the  court  of  Bleiberg.  There 
was  no  restraint  here;  all  was  laughter,  music, 
dancing,  and  wines.  The  women  were  young,  the 
men  were  young;  old  age  stood  at  one  side  and 
looked  on.  And  the  charming  Voiture- verse  of  a 
countess,  Maurice  was  determined  to  seek  her 
first  of  all.  He  vaguely  wondered  how  Fitzger- 
ald would  carry  himself  throughout  the  ordeal. 

The  troopers   dismounted   in   the   courtyard. 

"I'm  a  trifle  too  stiff  to  dance,"  Maurice  innocent- 
ly acknowledged. 

The  baron  laughed.  "You  will  have  to  take 
luck  with  me  in  the  stable-barrack;  the  chateau 
is  filled.  The  armory  has  been  turned  into  a  ball- 
room, and  the  guard  out  of  it." 

"Lead  on!"   said   Maurice. 

At  the  entrance  to  the  guardroom,  which  oc- 
cupied the  left  wing  of  the  stables,  stood  a  Lieu- 
tenant of  the  hussars. 

"This  is  Monsieur  Carewe,"  said  the  baron, 
"who  will  occupy  a  corner  in  the  guardroom." 

"Ah!  Monsieur  Carewe,"  waving  his  hand  cava- 
lierly; "happy  to  see  you  again." 

Maurice  was  growing  weary  of  his  name. 

"Enter,"  said  the  baron,  opening  the  door. 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWN         329 

Maurice  entered,  but  not  without  suspicion. 
However,  he  was  in  a  hurry  to  mingle  with  the 
gay  assembly  in  the  chateau.  But  that  body  was 
doomed  to  proceed  without  the  honor  or  the 
knowledge  of  his  distinguished  presence.  Several 
troopers  were  lounging  about.  At  the  sight  of  the 
baron  they  rose. 

"Messieurs,"  he  said,  "this  is  Monsieur  Carewe, 
who  was  expected." 

"Glad  to  see  you !"  they  sang  out  in  chorus. 
They  bowed  ironically. 

Maurice  gazed  toward  the  door.  As  he  did  so 
four  pairs  of  arms  enveloped  him,  and  before  he 
could  offer  the  slightest  resistance,  he  was  bound 
hand  and  foot,  a  scarf  was  tied  over  his  mouth, 
and  he  was  pushed  most  disrespectfully  into  a  chair. 
The  baron's  mouth  was  twisted  out  of  shape,  and 
the  troopers  were  smiling. 

"My  faith!  but  this  is  the  drollest  affair  I  ever 
was  in;"  and  the  baron  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  table 
and  held  his  sides.  "Monsieur  Carewe  !  Ha !  ha !  You 
are  a  little  too  stiff  to  dance,  eh?  Shall  I  tender 
your  excuses  to  the  ladies  ?  Ass !  did  you  dream 
for  a  moment  that  such  canaille  as  you,  might  show 
your  countenance  to  any  save  the  scullery  maids? 
Too  stiff  to  dance !  Ye  gods,  but  that  was  rich ! 
And  you  had  the  audacity  to  return  here !  I  must 
go;  the  thing  is  killing  me."  He  slipped  off  the 
table,  red  in  the  face  and  choking.  "The  tele- 
graph has  its  uses;  it  oame  ahead  of  you.  Wo 
trembled  for  fear  you  would  not  come !  Men,  guard 
him  as  your  lives,  while  I  report  to  Madame 
I  dare  say  she  will  make  it  droller  in  the  telling." 


330         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

He  stepped  to  the  door,  turned,  looking  into  the 
prisoner's  glaring  eyes;  he  doubled  up  again.  "\Vc 
are  quits;  I  forgive  you  the  broken  arm;  this  laugh 
will  repay  me.  How  Madame  the  countess  will 
laugh!  And  Duckwitz — the  General  will  die  of 
apoplexy !  0,  but  you  are  a  sorry  ass ;  and  how 
neatly  we  have  clipped  your  ears!"  And  into  the 
corridor  he  went,  still  laughing,  heartily  and  joy- 
ously, as  if  what  had  taken  place  was  one  of  the 
finest  jests  in  the  world. 

Maurice,  white  and  furious,  was  positive  that  ho 
never  would  laugh  again.  And  the  most  painful 
thought  was  that  his  honesty  had  brought  him  to 
this  pass — or,  was  it  his  curiosity? 


Fitzgerald  stood  alone  in  the  library.  The 
music  of  a  Strauss  waltz  came  indistinctly  to  him. 
He  was  troubled,  and  the  speech  of  it  lay  in  his 
eyes.  From  time  to  time  he  drummed  on  the 
window  sill,  and  followed  with  his  gaze  the  shad- 
owy forms  on  the  lawns.  He  was  not  a  part  of 
this  fairy  scene.  He  was  out  of  place.  So  many 
young  and  beautiful  women  eying  him  curiously 
confused  him.  In  every  glance  he  innocently  read 
his  disgrace. 

At  Madame's  request  he  had  dressed  himself  in 
the  uniform  of  a  Lieutenant-Colonel,  which  showed 
how  deeply  he  was  in  the  toils.  Though  it  em- 
phasized the  elegant  proportions  of  his  figure,  it  sat 
uncomfortably  upon  him.  His  vanity  was  not 
equal  to  his  sense  of  guilt.  The  uniform  was  a 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         331 

livery  of  dishonor.  He  could  not  distort  it  into 
a  virtue,  try  as  he  would.  He  lacked  that  cunning 
artifice  which  a  man  of  the  world  possesses,  that 
of  winning  over  to  the  right  a  misdeed. 

And  Carewe,  on  whose  honesty  he  would  have 
staked  his  life,  Carewe  had  betrayed  him.  Why, 
he  could  not  conceive.  He  saw  how  frail  his  house 
of  love  was.  A  breath  and  it  was  gone.  What  he 
had  until  to-day  deemed  special  favors  were  favors 
common  to  all  these  military  dandies.  They,  too, 
could  kiss  Madame's  hand,  and  he  could  do  no  more. 
And  yet  she  held  him.  Did  she  love  him?  He 
cculd  not 'tell.  All  he  knew  was  that  it  was  im- 
possible not  to  love  her.  And  to-night  he  witnessed 
the  culmination  of  the  woman  beautiful,  and  it 
dazzled  him,  filled  him  with  fears  and  oppressions. 
.  .  .  To  bind  her  hand  and  foot,  to  carry  her 
by  force  to  the  altar,  if  need;  to  call  her  his  in 
spite  of  all. 

If  she  were  playing  with  him,  making  a  ball  of 
his  heart  and  her  fancy  a  cup,  she  knew  not  of 
the  slumbering  lion  within.  He  himself  was  but 
dimly  conscious  of  it.  Princess?  That  did  not 
matter.  Since  that  morning  the  veil  had  fallen 
from  his  eyes,  but  he  had  said  nothing;  he  was 
waiting  for  her  to  speak.  Would  she  laugh  at  him  ? 
Xo,  no!  The  knowledge  that  had  come  to  him 
had  transformed  wax  into  iron.  Princess?  She 
was  the  woman  who  had  promised  to  be  his  wife. 

Only  two  candles  burned  on  the  mantel-piece. 
The  library  was  a  room  apart  from  the  festivi- 
ties. A  soft,  rose-colored  darknos?  pervaded  the 
room.  Presently  a  darker  shadow  tiptoed  over 


332         THE     rurTET     CKOWN 

the  threshold.  He  turned,  and  the  shadow  ap- 
proached. Madame's  gray  eyes,  full  of  lambent 
fires,  looked  into  his  own. 

"I  was  seeking  you/'  she  said.  The  jewels  in 
her  hair  threw  a  kind  of  halo  above  her  head. 

"Have  I  the  happiness  to  be  necessary  to  you?" 
he  asked. 

"You  have  not  been  enjoying  yourself." 

"No,  Madame;  my  conscience  is,  unhappily,  too 
green."  He  turned  to  the  window  again  for  fear 
he  would  lose  control  of  himself. 

"I  have  a  confession  to  make  to  you,"  she  said 
humbly.  How  broad  his  shoulders  were,  was  her 
thought. 

"It  can  not  concern  me,"  he  replied. 

"How?" 

"There  is  only  one  confession  which  I  care  to 
hear.  You  made  it  once,  though  you  are  not  will- 
ing to  repeat  it.  But  I  have  your  word,  Sylvia;  I 
am  content.  Not  all  the  world  could  make  me 
believe  that  you  would  willingly  retract  that 
word." 

Her  name,  for  the  first  time  coming  from  his 
lips,  caused  her  to  start.  She  sent  him  a  pene- 
trating glance,  but  it  broke  on  a  face  immobile  as 
marble. 

"I  do  not  recollect  granting  you  permission 
to  use  my  given  name,"  she  said. 

"0,  that  was  before  the  world.  But  alone, 
alone  as  we  are,  you  and  I,  it  is  different."  The 
smile  which  accompanied  these  words  was  frank- 
ness itself,  but  it  did  not  deceive  Madame,  who 


•i-±iJU     BUFFET     CROWN         333 

r»ad  his  eyes  too  well.  "Ah,  but  the  crumbs  you 
give  this  love  of  mine  are  so  few!" 

"You  are  the  only  man  in  the  world  permitted 
to  avow  love  to  me.  You  have  kissed  my  hand." 

"A  privilege  which  seems  extended  to  all." 

Madame  colored,  but  there  was  not  light 
enough  for  him  to  perceive  it. 

"The  hand  you  kissed  is  the  hand  of  the 
woman;  others  kiss  it  to  pay  homage.  Monsieur, 
forgive  me  for  having  deceived  you,  you  were 
so  easy  to  deceive." 

His  eyes  met  hers  steadily. 

"I  am  not  Madame  simply.  I  am  Stephonia 
Sylvia  Auersperg;  the  name  I  assumed  was  my 
mother's."  His  lack  of  surprise  alarmed  her. 

"I  am  well  aware  of  that,"  he  said.  "You  are 
the  duchess." 

Something  in  his  tone  warned  her  of  a  crisis, 
and  she  put  forth  her  cunning  to  avert  it.  "And 
you — you  will  not  love  me  less?"  her  voice  vibrant 
as  the  string  of  a  viol.  "I  am  a  princess,  but  yet 
a  woman.  In  me  there  are  two,  the  woman  and 
the  princess.  The  princess  is  proud  and  ambi- 
tious; to  gain  her  ends  she  stops  at  nothing.  As 
a  princess  she  may  stoop  to  trickery  and  deceit, 
and  step  back  untouched.  But  the  woman — ah, 
well;  for  this  fortnight  I  have  been  most  of  all 
the  woman." 

"And  all  this  to  me — is  a  preamble  to  my  dis- 
missal, since  my  promise  remains  unfulfilled? 
Madame,  do  not  think  that  because  fate  has  willed 
that  my  promise  should  become  void,  that  my 
conscience  acquits  me  of  dishonor.  For  love  of 


334         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

you  I  have  thrown  honor  to  the  winds.  But  do 
I  regret  it?  No.  For  I  am  mad,  and  being  mad, 
I  am  not  capable  of  reason.  I  have  broken  all 
those  ties  which  bind  a  man's  respect  to  himself. 
I  have  burned  all  bridges,  but  I  laugh  at  that.  It 
is  only  with  the  knowledge  that  your  love  is  mine 
that  I  can  hold  high  my  head. 

"As  the  princess  in  you  is  proud,  so  is  the  man 
in  me.  A  princess?  That  is  nothing;  I  love  you. 
Were  you  the  empress  of  all  the  Russias,  the  most 
unapproachable  woman  in  the  world,  I  should  not 
hesitate  to  profess  my  love,  to  find  some  means  of 
declaring  it  to  you.  I  love  you.  To  what  further 
depths  can  I  fall  to  prove  it?"  Again  he  sought 
the  window,  and  leaned  heavily  on  the  sill.  He 
waited,  as  a  man  waits  for  an  expected  blow. 

As  she  listened  a  delicious  sensation  swept 
through  her  heart,  a  sensation  elusive  and  intan- 
gible. She  surrendered  without  question.  At 
this  moment  the  Eve  in  her  evaded  all  questions. 
Here  was  a  man.  The  mood  which  seized  her 
was  as  novel  as  this  love  which  asked  nothing  but 
love,  and  the  willingness  to  pay  any  price;  and 
the  desire  to  test  both  mood  and  love  to  their  full 
strength  was  irresistible.  She  was  loved  for  her- 
self alone;  hitherto  men  had  loved  the  woman  less 
and  the  princess  more.  To  surrender  to  both 
mood  and  love,  if  only  for  an  hour  or  a 
day,  to  see  to  what  length  this  man  would  go  at 
a  sign  from  her. 

He  was  almost  her  equal  in  birth;  hi?  house  was 
nearly  if  not  quite  as  old  and  honored  as  her  o\vn  : 
in  his  world  he  stood  as  high  as  she  stood  in  hers. 


335 


She  had  never  committed  an  indiscretion;  passion 
had  never  swayed  her;  until  now  she  had  lived 
by  calculation.  As  she  looked  at  him,  she  knew 
that  in  all  her  wide  demesne  no  soldier  could  stand 
before  him  and  look  straight  into  his  eyes.  So 
deep  and  honest  a  book  it  was,  so  easily  readable, 
that  she  must  turn  to  its  final  pages.  Love  him? 
Xo.  Be  his  wife?  N"o.  She  recognized  that  it 
was  the  feline  instinct  to  play  which  dominated 
her.  Consequences?  Therein  lay  the  charm  of  it. 

"Patience,  Monsieur,"  she  said.  "Did  I  prom- 
ise to  be  your  wife?  Did  I  say  that  I  loved 
you?  Eli,  bien,  the  woman,  not  the  princess, 
made  those  vows.  I  am  mistress  not  only  of  my 
duchy,  but  of  my  heart."  She  ceased  and  regard- 
ed him  with  watchful  eyes.  He  did  not  turn. 
"Look  at  me,  John !"  The  voice  was  of  such 
winning  sweetness  that  St.  Anthony  himself,  had 
he  heard  it,  must  have  turned.  "Look  at  me  and 
see  if  I  am  more  a  princess  than  a  woman." 

He  wheeled  swiftly.  She  was  leaning  toward 
him,  her  face  was  upturned.  No  jewel  in  her 
hair  was  half  so  lustrous  as  her  eyes.  From  the 
threaded  ruddy  ore  of  her  hair  rose  a  perfume 
like  the  fabulous  myrrhs  of  Olympus.  Her  lips 
were  a  cup  of  wine,  and  her  eyes  bade  him  drink, 
and  the  taste  of  that  wine  haunted  him  as  long 
as  he  lived.  He  made  as  though  to  drain  the 
cup,  but  Madame  pushed  down  his  arms,  ut- 
tered a  low,  puzzled  laugh,  and  vanished  from  the 
room.  He  was  lost!  He  knew  it;  yet  he  did 
not  care.  He  threw  out  his  arms,  dropped  them, 
and  settled  his  shoulders.  A  smile,  a  warm,  con- 


336         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

ttntftd  smile,  came  into  his  face  and  dwelt  there. 
For    another    such    kiss    he   would    have    bartered 
eternity. 
And  Madame?    Who  can  say? 


CHAPTER   XXII 

IN    WHICH    MAURICE    RECURS    TO    OFFENBACH 

Midnight;  the  music  had  ceased,  and  the  yel- 
low and  scarlet  lanterns  had  been  plucked  from 
the  autumnal  hangings.  The  laughing,  smiling, 
dancing  women,  like  so  many  Cinderellas,  had  dis- 
appeared, and  with  them  the  sparkle  of  jewels; 
and  the  gallant  officers  had  ridden  away  to  the 
jingle  of  bit  and  spur.  Throughout  the  courtly 
revel  all  faces  had  revealed,  besides  the  happiness 
and  lightness  of  spirit,  a  suppressed  eagerness  for 
something  yet  to  come,  an  event  surpassing  any 
they  had  yet  known. 

Promptly  at  midnight  Madame  herself  had 
dropped  the  curtains  on  the  gay  scene  because  she 
had  urgent  need  of  all  her  military  household  at 
dawn,  when  a  picture,  far  different  from  that  which 
had  just  been  painted,  was  to  be  limned  on  the 
broad  canvas  of  her  dreams.  Darkness  and  quiet 
had  fallen  on  the  castle,  and  the  gray  moon  film 
lay  on  terrace  and  tiirret  and  tile. 

In  the  guardroom,  Maurice,  his  hands  and  feet 
still  in  pressing  cords,  dozed  in  his  chair.  He  had 
ceased  to  combat  drowsiness.  He  was  worn  out 
337 


338         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

with  his  long  ride,  together  with  the  chase  of  the 
night  before;  and  since  a  trooper  had  relieved 
his  mouth  of  the  scarf  so  that  he  could  breathe, 
he  cared  not  what  the  future  held,  if  only  he 
might  sleep.  It  took  him  a  long  time  to  arrive 
at  the  angle  of  comfort;  thi;  accomplished,  he 
drifted  into  smooth  waters.  The  troopers  who 
constituted  his  guard  played  cards  at  a  long 
table,  in  the  center  of  which  were  stuck  half  a 
dozen  bayonets,  which  served  as  candlesticks. 
They  laughed  loudly,  thumped  the  board,  and 
sometimes  sang.  No  one  bothered  himself  about 
the  prisoner,  who  might  have  slept  till  the  crack 
of  doom,  as  far  as  they  were  concerned. 

Shortly  before  the  new  hour  struck,  the  door 
opened  and  shut.  A  trooper  shook  the  sleeper  by 
the  sleeve.  Maurice  awoke  with  a  start  and  gazed 
about,  blinking  his  eyes.  Before  him  he  discov- 
ered Madame  the  duchess,  Fitzgerald  and  Mollen- 
dorf,  behind  whom  stood  the  Voiture-verse  of  a 
countess.  The  languor  forsook  him  and  he  pulled 
himself  together  and  sat  as  upright  as  his  bonds 
would  permit  him.  Something  interesting  was 
about  to  take  place. 

Madame  made  a  gesture  which  the  troopers  com- 
prehended, and  they  departed.  Fitzgerald,  with 
gloomy  eyes,  folded  his  arms  across  his  breast,  and 
with  one  hand  curled  and  uncurled  the  drooping 
ends  of  his  mustache;  the  Colonel  frowned  and 
rubbed  the  gray  bristles  on  his  upper  lip;  the 
countess  twisted  and  untwisted  her  handkerchief; 
Madame  alone  evinced  no  agitation,  unless  the  per- 
pendicular line  above  her  nose  could  have  been 


339 


a  sign  of  such.  This  lengthened  and  deepened  as 
her  glance  met  the  prisoner's. 

He  eyed  them  all  with  an  indifference  which 
was  tinctured  with  contempt  and  amusement. 

"Well,  Monsieur  Carewe,"  said  Madame,  coldly, 
"what  have  you  to  say?" 

"A  number  of  tilings,  Madame,"  he  answered, 
in  a  tone  which  bordered  the  insolent;  "only  they 
would  not  be  quite  proper  for  you  to  hear." 

The  Colonel's  hand  slid  from  his  lip  over  his 
mouth;  he  shuffled  his  feet  and  stared  at  the  bay- 
onets and  the  grease  spots  on  the  table. 

"Carewe,"  said  Fitzgerald,  endeavoring  to  speak 
calmly,  "you  have  broken  your  word  to  me  as  a 
gentleman  and  you  have  lied  to  me." 

The  reply  was  an  expressive  monosyllable,  "0 !" 

"Do  you   deny   it?"   demanded  the   Englishman. 

"Deny   what?"   asked   Maurice. 

"The  archbishop,"  said  Madame,  "assumed  the 
aggressive  last  night.  To  be  aggressive  one  must 
possess  strength.  Monsieur,  how  much  did  he 
pay  for  those  consols?  Come,  tell  me;  was  he 
liberal?  It  is  evident  that  you  are  not  a  man  of 
business.  I  should  have  been  willing  to  pay  as 
much  as  a  hundred  thousand  crowns.  Come;  ac- 
knowledge that  you  have  made  a  bad  stroke." 
She  bent  her  head  to  one  side,  and  a  derisive  smile 
lifted  the  corners  of  her  lips. 

A  dull  red  flooded  the  prisoner's  cheeks.  "I  do 
not  understand  you." 

"You  lie!"  Fitzgerald  stepped  closer  and  his 
hands  closed  menacingly. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Maurice,  "thank  you.       But 


340         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

why  not  complete  the  melodrama  by  itriking, 
since  you  have  doubled  your  fisti?" 

Fitzgerald  glared  at  him. 

"Monsieur/'  interposed  the  countess,  "do  not 
forget  that  you  are  a  gentleman;  Monsieur  Ca- 
rewe's  hands  are  tied." 

"Unfortunately,"  observed  Maurice. 

Madame  looked  curiously  at  the  countess,  while 
Fitzgerald  drew  back  to  the  table  and  rested  on  it. 

"I  can  not  comprehend  how  you  dared  return," 
Madame  resumed.  "One  who  watches  over  my 
affairs  has  informed  me  of  your  dishonorable 
act." 

"What  do  you  call  a  dishonorable  act?"  Mau- 
rice inquired  quietly. 

"One  who  breaks  his  sacred  promise!"  quickly. 

The  prisoner  laughed  maliciously.  Madame  had 
answered  the  question  as  he  hoped  she  would. 
"Chickens  come  home  to  roost.  What  do  you  say 
to  that,  my  lord?"  to  the  Englishman. 

This  time  it  was  not  the  prisoner's  cheeks 
which  reddened.  Even  Madame  was  forced  to 
look  away,  for  if  this  reply  touched  the  English- 
man it  certainly  touched  her  as  deeply.  Incident- 
ally, she  was  asking  herself  why  she  had  permit- 
ted the  Englishman  to  possess  her  lips,  hers,  which 
no  man  save  her  father  had  ever  possessed  before.  A 
kiss,  that  was  all  it  had  been,  yet  the  memory  of 
it  was  persistent,  annoying,  embarrassing.  In 
the  spirit  of  play — a  spirit  whose  origin  mystified 
her — she  had  given  the  man  something  which 
she  never  could  regain,  a  particle  of  her  pride. 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         341 

Besides,  this  was  not  all ;  she  had  in  that  moment 
given  up  her  right  to  laugh  at  him  when  the  time 
came;  now  she  would  not  be  able  to  laugh.  She 
regretted  the  folly,  and  bit  her  lip  at  the  thought 
of  it.  Consequences  she  had  laughed  at;  now  their 
possibilities  disturbed  her.  She  had  been  guilty  of 
an  indiscretion.  The  fact  that  the  Englishman  had 
ruined  himself  at  her  beck  did  not  enter  her  mind. 
The  hour  for  that  had  not  yet  arrived. 

Seeing  that  his  neat  barb  had  left  them  all 
without  answer,  Maurice  said:  "Doubtless  the 
informant  who  watches  over  your  interests  and 
various  other  interests  of  which  you  have  no  ink- 
ling, was  the  late  Colonel  Beauvais?  For  my  part, 
I  wish  it  was  the  late  Beauvais  in  the  sense  in  which 
we  refer  to  the  departed  ones.  But  let  us  give 
him  his  true  name — Prince  Konrad,  the  last  of 
the  Walmodens,  a  cashiered  gamester." 

Only  Fitzgerald  showed  any  surprise.  Maurice 
at  once  saw  that  the  others  were  in  the  secret. 
They  knew  the  Colonel.  Did  they  know  why  he 
was  in  Bleiberg?  Let  them  find  it  out  for  them- 
selves. He  would  not  lift  a  finger  to  aid  them. 
He  leaned  back  and  yawned. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said,  with  mock  politeness, 
"but  my  hands  are  tied,  and  the  truth  is,  I  am 
sleepy." 

"Count,"  said  Madame,  "release  him.  He  will 
be  too  well  guarded  to  fear  his  escaping." 

The  Colonel  performed  this  service  with  alacrity. 
He  honestly  admired  the  young  fellow  who  so  sel- 
dom lost  his  temper.  Besides,  he  had  a  sneaking 
idea  that  the  lad  was  being  unjustly  accused. 


342         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

Maurice  got  up  and  stretched  himself.  He 
rubbed  his  wrists,  then  sat  down  and  waited  foi  the 
comedy  to  proceed. 

"So  you  confess,"  said  Madame,  "that  you  sold 
the  consols  to  the  archbishop?" 

"I,  confess?"  Maurice  screwed  up  his  lips  and 
began  to  whistle  softly: 

"  Void  le  sabre  de  man  pere." 

"You  deny,  then?"  Madame  was  fast  losing 
patience,  a  grave  mistake  when  one  is  dealing  with 
a  banterer. 

Maurice  changed  the  tune: 


les  militaires, 
Leur  uniforme  coquet, 
Leur  moustache  et  leur  plumet  —  " 

"Answer!"  with  a  stamp  of  the  foot. 

"Je  sais  ce  que  je  voudrais, 
Je  voudrais  ctre  cuntiniere!"    .     .   . 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  pretty  countess,  after  a  fur- 
tive glance  at  Madame's  stormy  eyes,  "do  you 
deny  ?" 

The  whistle  ceased.  "Madame,  to  you  I  shall 
say  that  I  neither  deny  nor  affirm.  The  affair  is 
altogether  too  ridiculous  to  treat  seriously.  I 
have  nothing  to  say."  The  whistle  picked  up  the 
thread  again. 

Doubt  began  to  stir  in  the  eyes  of  the  English- 
man. He  looked  at  Madame  with  a  kind  of  inde- 
cision, to  find  that  she  was  glancing  covertly  at 
him.  His  gaze  finally  rested  on  Maurice,  who 
had  crossed  his  legs  and  was  keeping  time  to  the 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN          343 

music  with  his  foot.  Indeed,  these  were  not  the 
violent  protestations  of  innocence  he  had  looked 
for.  This  demeanor  was  not  at  all  in  accord  with 
his  expectations.  Now  that  he  had  possessed 
Madame's  lips  (though  she  might  never  possess 
the  consols),  Maurice  did  not  appear  so  guilty. 

"Carewe,"  he  said,  "you  have  deceived  me  from 
the  start." 

"Ah!  c'est  un  fameux  regiment, 
Le  regiment  de  la  Grande  Duchesse!" 

"You  knew  that  Madame  was  her  Highness," 
went  on  the  Englishman,  "and  yet  you  kept  that 
a  secret  from  me.  Can  you  blame  me  if  I  doubt 
you  in  other  respects?" 

"Sonnez  done  la  trompette, 
Et  battez  les  tambours!" 

And  the  warbler  nodded  significantly  at  Ma- 
dame, whose  frown  grew  still  darker. 

"Eh!  Monsieur,"  cried  the  Colonel,  with  a  pro- 
testing hand,  "you  are  out  of  tune !" 

"I  should  like  to  know  why  you  returned 
here/'  said  Madame.  "Either  you  have  some  plan, 
or  your  audacity  has  no  bounds." 

The  whistle  stopped  again.  "Madame,  for 
once  we  agree.  I,  too,  should  like  to  know  why 
I  returned  here." 

"Carewe,"  said  Fitzgerald,  "if  you  will  give 
me  your  word — " 

"Do  not  waste  your  breath,  Monsieur,"  inter- 
rupted Madame. 

"Will  you  give  me  your  word?"  persisted  Fit?- 


344         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

gerald,  refusing  to  see  the  warning  in  Madame's 
eyes. 

"I  will  give  you  nothing,  my  lord;  nothing. 
I.  have  said  that  I  will  answer  neither  one  way 
nor  the  other.  The  accusation  is  too  absurd. 
Now,  Madame,  what  is  your  pleasure  in  regard 
to  my  disposition?" 

"You  are  to  be  locked  up,  Monsieur,"  tartly. 
"You  are  too  inquisitive  to  remain  at  large." 

"My  confinement  will  be  of  short  duration," 
confidently. 

"It  rests  with  my  pleasure  alone." 

"Pardon  me  if  I  contradict  your  Highness.  I 
returned  here  incidentally  as  a  representative  of 
the  British  ambassador  in  Vienna;  I  volunteered 
this  office  at  the  request  of  my  own  minister." 

A  shade  of  consternation  came  into  the  faces 
of  his  audience. 

"If  nothing  is  heard  of  me  within  two  days,  an 
investigation  will  ensue.  It  is  very  droll,  but  I 
am  here  to  inquire  into  the  whereabouts  of  one 
Lord  Fitzgerald,  who  has  disappeared.  Tele- 
grams to  the  four  ends  of  the  world  have  brought 
no  news  of  his  present  residence.  The  archbishop 
instituted  the  latter  inquiries,  because  it  was  urgent 
and  necessary  he  should  know." 

Fitzgerald   became   enveloped    in   gloom. 

"And  your  credentials,  Monsieur?"  said  the 
duchess.  "You  have  them,  I  presume?" 

"I  came  as  a  private  gentleman;  a  telegram  to 
my  minister  in  Vienna  will  bring  indorsement." 

"Ah !  Then  you  shall  be  locked  up.  I  can 
not  accord  you  recognition;  without  the  essential 


THE     PUPPET     CEOWN         345 

representations,  I  see  nothing  in  you  but  an  imper- 
tinent meddler.  To-morrow  evening  you  shall  be 
conveyed  to  Brunnstadt,  where  you  will  reside 
for  some  time,  I  can  assure  you.  Perhaps  on 
your  head  will  rest  the  blood  of  many  gallant 
gentlemen;  for  within  another  twenty-four  hours 
I  shall  declare  war  against  Leopold.  This  will 
be  the  consequence  of  your  disloyalty  to  your 
word."  And  she  moved  toward  the  door,  the 
others  imitating  her.  Fitzgerald,  more  than  any 
one  else,  desired  to  get  away. 

And  one  by  one  they  vanished.  Once  the  count- 
ess turned  and  threw  Maurice  a  glance  which  mys- 
tified him;  it  was  half  curtained  with  tears. 
Presently  he  was  alone.  His  eye  grasped  every 
object.  There  was  not  a  weapon  in  sight;  only 
the  bayonets  on  the  table,  and  he  could  scarcely 
hope  to  escape  by  use  of  one  of  these.  A  carafe 
of  water  stood  on  the  table.  He  went  to  it  and 
half  emptied  it.  His  back  was  toward  the  door. 
Suddenly  it  opened.  He  wheeled,  expecting  to 
see  the  troopers.  His  surprise  was  great.  Beati- 
vais  was  leaning  against  the  door,  a  half  humorous 
smile  on  his  lips.  The  tableau  lasted  several  min- 
utes. 

"Well,"  said  Beauvais,  "you  do  not  seem  very 
glad  to  see  me." 

Maurice  remained  silent,  and  continued  to  gaze 
at  his  enemy. over  the  tops  of  the  upturned  bay- 
onets. 

"You  are,  as  I  said  before,  a  very  young  man." 

"I  killed  a  puppet  of  yours  last  night,"  replied 
Maurice,  with  a  peculiar  grimness, 


310         T1IK     PUPPET     0 Pi  OWN 

"Eh?  So  it  was  you?  However,  Kopf  knew 
too  much;  he  is  dead,  thanks  to  your  service. 
After  all,  it  was  a  stroke  of  war;  the  princes.-, 
whose  little  rose  you  have,  was  to  have  been  a 
hostage." 

"If  she  had  refused  to  be  a  wife/'  Maurice 
replied. 

Beauvais  curled  his  mustache.  - 

"I  know  a  good  deal  more  than  Kopf." 

"You  do,  certainly;  but  you  are  at  a  convenient 
nearness.  What  you  know  will  be  of  no  use  t<> 
you.  Let  us  sit  down." 

"I  prefer  to  stand.  The  honor  you  do  me  is 
too  delicate." 

"'0,  you  may  have  no  fear." 

"I  have  none — so  long  as  my  back  isn't  turned 
toward  you." 

Beauvais  passed  over  this.  "You  arc  a  very 
good  blade;  you  handle  a  sword  well.  That  is  a 
compliment,  considering  that  1  am  held  as  the 
first,  blade  in  the  kingdom.  It  was  only  to-day 
I  learned  that  formerly  you  had  been  a  cavalry- 
man in  America.  You  have  the  making  of  a  sol- 
dier." 

Maurice  bowed,  his  hand  resting  near  one  of  tl:e 
bayonets. 

"You  are  also  a  soldier  of  fortune — like  myself. 
You  made  a  good  stroke  with  the  archbishop.  You 
hoodwinked  us  all." 

Maurice  did  not  reply. 

"Very  well;  we  shall  not  dwell  on  it.  You 
are  discreet." 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         347 

riaurice  saw  that  Beauvais  was  speaking  in 
good  faith. 

"You  have  something  to  say;  come  to  it  at  once, 
for  it  is  trying  to  watch  you  so  closely." 

"I  will  give  you —  He  hesitated  and  scratched 
his  chin.  "I  will  give  you  ten  thousand  crowns 
as  the  price  of  your  silence  in  regard  to  the 'South 
American  affair." 

A  sardonic  laugh  greeted  this  proposal.  "I  did 
not  know  that  you  were  so  cheap.  But  it  is  too 
late." 

"Too  late?" 

"Doubtless,  since  by  this  time  the  authorities 
are  in  possession  of  the  interesting  facts." 

"I  beg  to  differ  from  you." 

"Do  as  you  please,"  said  Maurice,  triumphantly. 
"I  sent  an  account  of  your  former  exploits  both 
to  my  own  government  and  to  the  one  which  you  so 
treacherously  betrayed.  One  or  the  other  will  not 
fail  to  reach." 

"I  am  perfectly  well  aware  of  that,"  Beauvais 
smiled.  He  reached  into  a  pocket,  and  for  a 
moment  Maurice  expected  to  see  a  pistol  come 
forth.  But  he  was  needlessly  alarmed.  Beauvais 
extracted  two  envelopes  from  the  pocket  and  sailed 
them  through  the  intervening  space.  They  fell 
on  the  table.  "Put  not  your  trust  in  hotel  clerks," 
was  the  sententious  observation.  "At  least,  till 
you  have  discovered  that  no  one  else  employs 
them.  I  am  well  served.  The  clerk  was  told  to 
intercept  your  outgoing  post;  and  there  is  the  evi- 
dence. Ten  thousand  crowns  and  a  safe  conduct." 


348         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

Maurice  picked  up  the  letters  mechanically. 
They  were  his;  the  stamps  were  not  canceled,  but 
the  flaps  were  slit.  He  turned  them  this  way  and 
that,  bewildered.  He  was  convinced  that  he  could 
in  no  way  cope  with  this  man  of  curious  indus- 
tries, this  man  who  seemed  to  have  a  key  for 
every  lock,  and  whom  nothing  escaped.  And 
the  wise  old  Marshal  had  permitted  him  to  leave 
the  kingdom  without  let  or  hindrance.  Perhaps 
the  Marshal  understood  that  Beauvais  was  a  sort 
of  powder  train,  and  that  the  farther  he  was  away 
from  the  mine  the  better  for  all  concerned. 

"You  are  a  great  rascal,"  Maurice  said  finally. 

"We  will  waive  that  point.  The  matter  at 
present  is,  how  much  will  it  take  to  buy  your 
silence  for  the  future?" 

"And  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  kill  you  when  I 
had  the  chance,"  continued  Maurice,  as  if  follow- 
ing a  train  of  thought. 

"We  never  realize  how  great  the  opportunity  is 
till  it  has  passed  beyond  our  reach.  Weil,  how 
much?" 

"I  am  not  in  need  of  money." 

"To  be  sure;  I  forgot.  But  the  archbishop 
could  not  have  given  you  a  competence  for  life." 

"I  choked  a  few  facts  out  of  Kopf,"  said  Maurice. 
"You  will  wear  no  crown — that  is,  earthly." 

"And  your  heavenly  one  is  near  at  hand,"  re- 
joined Beauvais. 

Maurice  absently  fingered  a  bayonet. 

"You  refuse  this  conciliation  on  my  part?" 
asked  Beauvais. 

"Positively." 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         349 

"Well,  then,  if  anything  happens  to  you,  you 
will  have  only  yourself  to  blame.  I  will  leave 
you  to  digest  that  suggestion.  Your  life  hangs  in 
the  balance.  I  will  give  you  till  to-morrow  morn- 
ing to  make  up  your  mind." 

"Go  to  the  devil!" 

"In  that,  I  shall  offer  you  the  precedence."  And 
Beauvais  backed  out;  backed  out  because  Maurice 
had  wrenched  loose  one  of  the  bayonets. 

Maurice  flung  the  bayonet  across  the  room, 
went  back  to  his  chair,  and  tore  his  ill-fated  let- 
ters into  ribbons.  When  this  was  done  he  stared 
moodily  at  the  impromptu  candlesticks,  and  tried 
to  conceive  the  manner  in  which  Beauvais's  threat 
would  materialize. 

When  the  troops  returned  to  their  watch,  they 
found  the  prisoner  in  a  recumbent  position,  star- 
ing at  the  cracks  in  the  floor,  oblivious  to  all  else 
save  his  thoughts,  which  were  by  no  means  chari- 
table or  humane.  They  resumed  their  game  of 
cards.  At  length  Maurice  fell  into  a  light  slum- 
ber. The  next  time  he  opened  his  eyes  it  was 
because  of  a  peculiar  jar,  which  continued;  a 
familiar,  monotonous  jar,  such  as  the  tread  of 
feet  on  the  earth  creates.  Tramp,  tramp,  tramp; 
it  was  a  large  body  of  men  on  the  march.  Soon 
this  was  followed  by  a  lighter  and  noisier  sound 
— cavalry.  Finally,  there  came  the  rumbling  of 
heavy  metal — artillery.  More  than  an  hour 
passed  before  these  varying  sounds  grew  indistinct. 

Maurice  was  now  fully  awake.  An  army  had 
passed  the  Red  Chateau. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A    GAME    OF    POKER    AXD    THE    STAKES 

The  next  morning  Beauvais  came  for  his  answer. 
It  was  not  the  answer  he  had  expected. 

"So  be  it,"  he  replied.  "Your  government  had 
better  appoint  your  successor  at  once.  Good 
morning." 

"You  will  die  suddenly  some  day,"  said  Mau- 
rice. 

Beauvais  shrugged,  and  departed. 

It  was  a  dreary  long  day  for  the  prisoner,  who 
saw  no  one  but  his  jailers.  He  wondered  what 
time  they  would  start  for  Brimnstadt.  He  had 
never  seen  Brunnstadt.  He  hoped  the  city  would 
interest  him.  Was  he  to  be  disposed  of  on  the 
road?  Xo,  that  would  scarcely  be;  there  were 
too  many  witnesses.  In  the  city  prison,  then; 
that  was  possible.  The  outlook  was  not  rose- 
colored.  He  set  to  work  to  challenge  each  of  his 
jailers,  but  this  did  not  serve.  At  five  o'clock  the 
bluff  old  Colonel  Mollendorf  came  in.  He  dis- 
missed the  troopers,  who  were  glad  enough  to  be 
relieved. 

"I'll  be  responsible  for  the  prisoner  from  now 
on,"  he  said.  As  soon  as  he  and  Maurice  were 
350 


THE    PUPPET     CEOWN         351 

alone  he  propped  his  chin  and  contemplated  the 
sullen  face  of  the  prisoner.  "Well,  my  son,  I 
am  positive  that  you  have  been  accused  somewhat 
hastily,  but  that's  the  way  women  have,  jumping 
at  conclusions  before  they  read  the  preface.  But 
you  must  give  Madame  credit  for  being  honest  in 
the  matter,  as  well  as  the  others.  Beauvais  is  posi- 
tive that  the  move  of  the  archbishop  is  due  to 
your  selling  out  to  him.  Come,  tell  me  the  story. 
If  you  wish,  I'll  promise  not  to  repeat  it.  Ma- 
dame is  determined  to  lock  you  up  in  any  event." 

There  was  something  so  likable  about  the  old 
warrior  that  Maurice  relented. 

"There  was  nothing  in  the  gun-barrels,"  he 
said.  "Some  one  had  entered  that  room  before  me. 
I  thought  at  first  that  Beauvais  had  them;  but 
he  is  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  dispose  of 
them  to  the  prelate.  But  has  the  archbishop  got 
them?  I  wish  I  knew.  That's  all  there  is  to 
the  story." 

"And  her  Eoyal  Highness's  dog?"  slyly. 

"What !  Did  you  hear  about  that  ?"  Maurice 
flushed. 

"There  is  little  going  on  in  Bleiberg  that  we 
don't  hear  about.  The  princess  is  charming. 
Poor  girl!" 

"Madame's  victory  will  have  a  strange  odor. 
Can  she  not  let  the  king  die  in  peace?" 

"My  son,  she  dares  not.  If  that  throne  were 
vacant  of  a  king —  Let  us  not  talk  politics." 

"Madame  has  no  love   for  me,"   said  Maurice. 

"Madame  has  no  love  for  any  one,  if  that  will 
give  you  any  satisfaction." 


352         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

"It  does.  My  lord  the  Englishman  came  near 
striking  me  last  night." 

"I  would  not  lay  that  up  against  him.  Madame 
was  the  power  behind  the  throne." 

"And  the  impulse  behind  Madame?"  smiling. 

"You  are  the  only  man  who  has  ever  crossed 
Madame's  path;  she  can  not  forget  it." 

"And  she  has  put  me  in  a  bad  light,  as  far 
as  Fitzgerald  is  concerned.  A  man  will  believe 
anything  a  woman  says  to  him,  if  he  loves  her." 

"Let  us  avoid   dissertations." 

"What  do  you  want  to  talk   about?" 

"Yourself;  you  are  interesting,  entertaining, 
and  instructive,"  the  Colonel  answered,  laughing. 
"I  never  ran  across  an  American  who  wasn't,  and 
I  have  met  a  number.  What  have  you  done  to 
Beauvais  ?" 

"It  is  not  exactly  what  Fve  done;  it  is  what 
I  know." 

"What  do  you  know?" 

Maurice  repeated  the  story. 

"And  you  bested  him  at  the  rapiers?"  in  as- 
tonishment. 

"Is  there  anything  startling  about  it?"  asked 
Maurice. 

"He  has  no  match  hereabout."  The  Colonel 
looked  across  the  table  at  the  smooth-faced  boy — 
he  was  scarcely  else — and  reflected.  "Why  did 
you  give  up  the  army?" 

"The  army  in  America  doesn't  run  to  good 
clothes;  the  officers  have  to  work  harder  than  the 
privates,  and,  save  in  Washington,  their  social 
status  is  nil.  Besides,  there  is  too  much  fight- 


THE     PUPPET     CROWX 


ing  going  on  all  the  time.  Here,  an  officer  is 
always  on  dress  parade." 

"Still,  we  are  always  ready.  In  the  past  we 
show  up  pretty  well  in  history.  But  to  return  to 
Beauvais,  it  is  very  embarrassing,  very." 

"It  will  be  for  him,  if  I  live  long  enough." 

"Eh?" 

"Beauvais  has  promised  to  push  me  off  the 
board,  to  use  his  own  words.  I  am  wondering 
how  he  will  do  it." 

"Don't  let  that  disturb  you;  he  will  do  noth- 
ing— now.  Well,  well;  it  is  all  a  sorry  game; 
and  I  find  that  making  history  has  its  disadvan- 
tages. But  I  have  dandled  Madame  as  a  child 
on  my  knee,  and  her  wish  is  law;  wherever  her 
fortunes  lead,  I  must  follow.  She  will  win;  she 
can  not  help  winning.  But  I  pity  that  poor  devil 
of  a  king,  who,  they  say,  is  now  bereft  of  speech. 
Ah,  had  he  been  a  man,  I  could  have  gone  into 
this  heart  and  soul." 

"He  is  on  his  deathbed.  And  his  daughter, 
God  knows  what  is  in  store  for  her.  Prince 
Frederick  is  dallying  with  his  peasant  girl.  The 
day  for  the  wedding  has  come  and  gone,  unless 
he  turned  up  to-day,  which  is  not  likely." 

"Which  is  not  likely  indeed,"  repeated  the 
Colonel  sadly.  He  pulled  out  his  pipe,  and 
smoked  for  a  time.  "But  let  us  not  judge  harsh- 
ly, says  the  Book.  There  may  be  circumstances 
over  which  Prince  Frederick  has  no  control.  I 
suppose  your  sympathies  are  on  the  other  side  of 
the  path.  Youth  is  always  quick  and  generous; 


354         THE     PUPPET     CKOWX 

it  never  stops  to  weigh  causes  or  to  reason  why. 
And  strange,  its  judgment  is  almost  always  unerr- 
ing. I  am  going  to  share  my  dinner  with  you 
to-night.  I'"ll  try  to  brighten  you  up  a  bit." 

"Thanks." 

"Then  after  dinner  we'll  play  poker  until  they 
come  to  take  you  to  Brunnstadt." 

"What  sort  of  a  city  is  it?" 

"You  will  not  see  much  of  it ;  so  I  will  not 
take  the  trouble  to  tell  you  that  it  is  slightly  in- 
ferior to  Bleiberg." 

Sure  enough,  when  the  dark  of  evening  fell, 
two  servants  entered  with  trays  and  baskets,  and 
proceeded  to  lay  the  table.  They  put  new  candles 
in  the  bayonets. 

"Ha !"  said  the  Colonel ;  "you  have  forgotten 
the  wine,  rascals!" 

"Bring  a  dozen  bottles,"  Maurice  suggested, 
having  an  idea  in  mind. 

"Eh?" 

"Remember,  Colonel,  I've  been  a  soldier  and  a 
journalist  in  a  country  where  they  only  wash  with 
water.  In  the  summer  we  have  whisky  iced,  in 
the  winter  we  have  it  hot;  an  antidote  for  both 
heat  and  cold.  Ah,  Colonel,  if  you  only  might 
sniff  a  mint  julep!" 

"A  dozen  bottles,  then,"  said  the  Colonel  to  the 
servants,  who  retired  to  execute  the  order. 

"How  old  will  it  be?"  asked  Maurice. 

"Twice  your  age,  my  son.  But  do  not  make 
any  miscalculation  about  my  capacity  for  to- 
kayer." 

"Any   miscalculation?"   Maurice  echoed. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         355 

"Yes;  if  you  plan  to  get  me  drunk.  There  are 
no  troopers  about,  and  it  would  be  easy  enough 
for  you  to  slip  out  if  I  should  lose  my  head." 

Maurice's  laugh  had  a  false  ring  to  it.  The 
Colonel  had  made  a  very  shrewd  guess. 

"Well !"  said  the  Colonel,  with  a  gesture  toward 
the  table. 

They  sat  down,  and  both  made  an  excellent  din- 
ner. Maurice  demolished  a  roasted  pheasant, 
stuffed  with  chestnuts,  while  the  Colonel  disinte- 
grated a  duck.  The  wine  came,  and  the  servants 
ranged  six  bottles  on  the  side  of  each  plate.  It 
was  done  so  gravely  that  Maurice  laughed  heart- 
ily. The  wine  was  the  oldest  in  Madame's  cellar, 
and  Maurice  wondered  at  the  Colonel's  temerity 
in  selecting  it.  The  bottles  were  of  thick  glass, 
flat-bottomed,  and  ungainly,  and  Maurice  figured 
that  there  was  more  than  a  pint  in  each.  It 
possessed  a  delicious  bouquet.  The  Colonel  emp- 
tied three  bottles,  with  no  more  effect  than 
if  the  wine  had  been  water.  Maurice  did  not 
appreciate  this  feat  until  he  had  himself  emptied 
a  bottle.  It  was  then  he  saw  that  the  boot  was 
likely  to  be  on  the  other  foot. 

He  looked  at  the  Colonel  enviously;  the  old  sol- 
dier was  a  gulf.  He  had  miscalculated,  indeed. 
But  he  was  fertile  in  plans,  and  a  more  reasonable 
one  occurred  to  him.  He  drank  another  bottle  and 
began  to  talk  verbosely.  Later  he  grew  confidential. 
He  told  the  Colonel  a  great  many  things  which — 
had  never  happened,  things  impossible  and  improb- 
able. The  Colonel  listened  soberly,  and  nodded 
now  and  again.  Dinner  past,  they  pushed  the  re- 


356         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

mains  aside  and  began  to  play  poker,  a  game  at 
which  the  Colonel  proved  to  be  no  novice,  much 
to  Maurice's  wonder. 

"Why,  you  know  the  game  as  thoroughly  as  an 
Arizona  corporal." 

"I  generally  spend  a  month  of  the  winter  in 
Vienna.  One  of  your  compatriots  taught  me  the 
interesting  game."  The  Colonel  shuffled  the 
cards.  "It  is  the  great  American  game,  so  I  am 
told." 

"0,  they  play  checkers  in  the  New  England 
states,"  said  Maurice,  hiccoughing  slightly.  "But 
out  west  and  in  all  the  great  cities  poker  has  the 
way." 

"What  have  you  got?"  asked  the  Colonel,  an- 
swering a  call. 

"Jacks  full." 

"Takes  the  pot;"  and  this  Americanism  came 
so  naturally  that  Maurice  roared. 

"Poker  is  a  great  preliminary  study  to  diplom- 
acy," said  the  Colonel,  as  he  scrutinized  his  hand. 
"You  raise  it?" 

"Yes.  One  card.  Diplomacy?  So  it  is.  I 
played  a  game  with  the  Chinese  ambassador  in 
Washington  one  night.  I  was  teaching  him  how 
to  play.  I  lost  all  the  ready  money  I  had  with 
me.  Next  day  I  found  out  that  he  was  the 
shrewdest  player  in  the  diplomatic  circles.  Let's 
make  it  a  jackpot." 

"All  the  same  to  me." 

And  the  game  went  on.  Presently  Maurice 
threw  aside  his  coat.  He  was  feeling  the  warmth 
of  the  wine,  but  he  opened  another  bottle. 


THE    PUPPET    CKOWN         357 

"Is  there  any  truth/'  said  the  Colonel,  "about 
your  shooting  a  man  who  is  found  cheating  in 
your  country?" 

"There  is,  if  you  can  draw  quicker  than  he." 
Maurice  glanced  at  his  hand  and  threw  it  down. 

"What  did  you  have?" 

"Nothing.     I   was  trying  to  fill  a   straight." 

"So  was  I,"  said  the  Colonel,  sweeping  the 
board.  "It's  your  deal."  He  unbottoned  his  coat. 

Maurice  felt  a  shiver  of  delight.  Sticking  out 
of  the  Colonel's  belt  was  the  ebony  handle  of  a 
cavalry  revolver,  and  he  made  up  his  mind  to  get 
it.  There  were  no  troopers  around — the  Colonel 
had  admitted  as  much.  He  began  talking  rap- 
idly, sometimes  incoherently.  In  a  corner  of  the 
room  he  saw  the  cords  which  had  been  around  his 
wrists  and  ankles  the  night  before. 

"Poker,"  said  the  Colonel,  "depends  mostly  on 
what  you  Americans  call  bluff.  A  bluff,  as  I  un- 
derstand it,  is  making  the  others  think  you  have 
them  when  you  haven't,  or  you  haven't  got  them 
when  you  have.  In  one  case  you  scare  them,  in 
the  other  you  fish.  You're  getting  flushed,  my 
son;  you'll  have  a  headache  to-night;  and  in  an 
hour  you  start." 

An  hour !  There  was  fever  in  Maurice's  veins, 
but  it  was  not  caused  wholly  by  the  heat  of  the 
wine.  How  should  he  manage  it?  He  must 
have  that  revolver. 

"Call?    What  have  you  got?"  asked  the  Colonel. 

"Three  kings — no,  by  George !  only  a  pair.  I 
thought  a  queen  was  a  king.  My  head's  begin- 


ning  to  get  shaky.  Colonel,  I  believe  I  am  get- 
ting drunk." 

"I  am  sure  of  it." 

Maurice  got  up  and  rolled  in  an  extraordinary 
fashion,  but  he  was  careful  not  to  overdo  it.  He 
began  to  sing.  The  Colonel  got  up,  too,  and  he 
was  laughing.  Maurice  accidentally  knocked  over 
some  empty  bottles;  he  kicked  them  about. 

"Sh !"  cried  the  Colonel,  coming  around  the 
table;  "you'll  stampede  the  horses." 

Maurice  staggered  toward  him,  and  the  Colonel 
caught  him  in  his  arms.  Maurice  suddenly  drew 
back,  and  the  Colonel  found  himself  looking  into 
the  cavernous  tube  of  his  own  revolver.  Not  a 
muscle  in  his  face  moved. 

"Take   off  your   coat,"   said   Maurice,   quietly. 

The  Colonel  complied.  "You  are  not  so  very 
drunk  just  now." 

"No.  It  was  one  of  those  bluffs  when  you 
make  them  think  you  haven't  them  when  you 
have." 

"What  next?"  asked  the  Colonel. 

"Those  cords  in  the  corner." 

The  Colonel  picked  them  up,  sat  down  and 
gravely  tied  one  around  his  ankles.  Maurice 
watched  him  curiously.  The  old  fellow  was 
rather  agreeable,  he  thought. 

"Now,"  the  Colonel  inquired  calmly,  "how  are 
you  going  to  tie  my  hands?  Can  you  hold  the 
revolver  in  one  hand  and  tie  with  the  other?" 

"Hang  me!"  exclaimed  Maurice,  finding  him- 
self brought  to  a  halt. 

"My  son,"  said  the  Colonel,  "you  are  clever.    In 


THE    PUPPET     CKOWX         359 

fact,  you  are  one  of  those  fellows  who  grow  to  be 
great.  You  never  miss  an  opportunity,  and  more 
often  than  not  you  invent  opportunities,  which  is 
better  still.  The  truth  is,  you  have  proceeded 
exactly  on  the  lines  I  thought  you  would;  and 
thereby  you  have  saved  me  the  trouble  of  lying  or 
having  it  out  with  Madame.  I  am  a  victim,  not 
an  accomplice;  I  was  forced  at  the  point  of  a  re- 
volver; I  had  nothing  to  say.  If  I  had  really 
been  careless  you  would  have  accomplished  the 
feat  just  the  same.  For  it  was  easily  accom- 
plished, you  will  admit.  'Tis  true  I  knew  you 
were  acting  because  I  expected  you  to  act.  All 
this  preamble  puzzles  you." 

Certainly  Maurice's  countenance  expressed  noth- 
ing less  than  perplexity.  He  stepped  back  a  few 
paces. 

"You  have,"  continued  the  Colonel,  "perhaps 
three-quarters  of  an  hour.  You  will  be  able  to 
get  out  of  here.  You  will  have  to  depend  on  your 
own  resources  to  cross  the  frontier." 

"Would  you  just  as  soon  explain  to  me — " 

"It  means  that  a  certain  young  lady,  like  my- 
self, believes  in  your  innocence." 

"The  countess?"  Maurice  cried  eagerly,  remem- 
bering the  look  of  the  night  before  and  the  tears 
which  were  in  it. 

"I  will  not  mention  any  names.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  it  was  due  to  her  pleading  that  I  con- 
sented to  play  poker — and  to  let  you  fall  into  my 
arms.  Come,  to  work,"  holding  out  his  hands. 

First  Maurice  clasped  the  hand  and    wrung  it. 


3GO         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

"Colonel,  I  do  not  want  you  to  get  into  trouble 
on  my  account — " 

"Go  along  with  you !  If  you  were  really  im- 
portant/' in  half  a  banter,  "it  would  be  altogether 
a  different  matter.  As  it  is,  you  are  more  in 
the  way  than  anything  else,  only  Madame  does  not 
see  it  in  that  light.  Come,  at  my  wrists,  and 
take  your  handkerchief  and  tie  it  over  my  mouth; 
make  a  complete  job  of  it  while  you're  at  it." 

"But  they'll   wonder  how  I  tied  you — " 

"By  the  book,  the  boy  is  quite  willing  to  sit 
down  and  play  poker  with  me  till  the  escort  comes ! 
Don't  trouble  yourself  about  me;  Madame  has  too 
much  need  of  me  to  give  me  more  than  a  slight 
rating.  Hurry  and  be  off,  and  remember  that 
Beauvais  has  promised  to  push  you  off  the  board. 
Take  the  near  path  for  the  woods  and  strike  north- 
east. If  you  run  into  any  sentries  it  will  be  your 
own  fault." 

"And  the  army?" 

"The  army?  Who  the  devil  has  said  anything 
about  the  army?" 

"I  heard  it  go  past  last  night." 

"Humph !  Keep  to  the  right  of  the  pass.  Now, 
quick,  before  my  conscience  speaks  above  a  whis- 
per." 

"I  should  like  to  see  the  countess." 

"You  will — if  you  reach  Bleiberg  by  to-morrow 
night." 

Maurice  needed  no  further  urging,  and  soon 
he  had  the  Colonel  securely  bound  and  silenced. 
Next  he  put  on  the  Colonel's  hat  and  coat,  and 
examined  the  revolver. 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWN         361 

"It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  load  it,  Colonel." 

The  Colonel  blinked  his  eyes. 

"Au  revoir!"  said  Maurice,  as  he  made  for  the 
door.  "Vergis  mein  niclit!"  and  he  was  gone. 

He  crept  down  the  stairs,  cautiously  entered 
the  court,  it  was  deserted.  The  moon  was  up 
and  shining.  The  gate  was  locked,  hut  he  climbed 
it  without  mishap.  Not  a  sentry  was  in  sight. 
He  followed  the  path,  and  swung  off  into  the 
forest.  He  was  free.  Here  he  took  a  breathing 
spell.  When  he  started  onward  he  held  the  re- 
volver ready.  Woe  to  the  sentry  who  blundered 
on  him !  For  he  was  determined  to  cross  the  fron- 
tier if  there  was  a  breath  of  life  in  him.  More- 
over, he  must  be  in  Bleiberg  within  twenty  hours. 

He  was  positive  that  Madame  the  duchess  intend- 
ed to  steal  a  march,  to  declare  war  only  when  she 
was  within  gunshot  of  Bleiberg.  It  lay  with  him 
to  prevent  this  move.  His  cup  of  wrath  was  full. 
From  now  on  he  was  resolved  to  wage  war  against 
Madame  on  his  own  account.  She  had  laughed 
in  his  face.  He  pushed  on,  examining  trees,  hol- 
lows and  ditches.  Sometimes  he  put  his  hand 
to  his  ear  and  listened.  There  was  no  sound  in 
the  great  lonely  forest,  save  for  the  low  murmur 
of  the  wind  through  the  sprawling  boughs.  Shad- 
ows danced  on  the  forest  floor.  Once  he  turned 
and  shook  his  clenched  fist  toward  the  spot  which 
marked  the  location  of  the  Red  Chateau.  He 
thanked  Providence  that  he  was  never  to  see  it 
again.  What  an  adventure  to  tell  at  the  clubs 
when  he  once  more  regained  his  Vienna !  Would 
he  regain  it? 


362     v    THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

Why  did  Madame  keep  Fitzgerald  to  her  strings? 
He  concluded  not  to  bother  himself  with  problems 
abstract;  the  main  object  was  to  cross  the  Thalians 
by  a  path  of  his  own  choosing.  When  he  had  cov- 
ered what  he  thought  to  be  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  he 
mounted  a  lookout.  The  highway  was  about  three 
hundred  yards  to  the  left.  That  was  where  it 
should  be.  He  saw  no  sentries,  so  he  slid  down 
from  the  tree  and  resumed  his  journey.  The 
chestnuts,  oaks,  and  firs  were  growing  thicker  and 
denser.  A  dead  branch  cracked  with  a  loud  report 
beneath  his  feet.  With  his  heart  almost  in  his 
throat,  he  lay  down  and  listened.  A  minute  passed ; 
he  listened  in  vain  for  an  answering  noise.  He  got 
up  and  went  on. 

Presently  he  came  upon  a  cluster  of  trees  which 
was  capable  of  affording  a  hiding  place  for  three 
or  four  men.  He  stood  still  and  surveyed  it.  The 
moon  cast  moving  shadows  on  either  side  of  it,  but 
these  had  no  human  shape.  He  laughed  silently  at 
his  fear,  and  as  he  was  about  to  pass  the  cluster 
a  man  stepped  out  from  behind  it,  his  eyes 
gleaming  and  his  hand  extended.  He  was  rather 
a  handsome  fellow,  but  pale  and  emaciated.  He 
wore  a  trooper's  uniform,  and  Maurice,  swearing 
softly,  concluded  that  his  dash  for  liberty  had 
come  to  naught.  He,  too,  held  a  revolver  in  his 
hand,  but  he  dared  not  raise  it.  There  was  a 
certain  expression  on  the  trooper's  face  which 
precluded  any  arguing. 

"If  you  move,"  the  trooper  said,  in  a  mild 
voice ;  "if  you  utter  a  sound,  I'll  blow  off  the  top 
of  your  cursed  head!" 


CHAPTEK   XXIV 

THE    PRISONER    OF    THE    RED    CHATEAU 

There  the  two  stood,  mottled  in  the  moon- 
shine and  shadow,  with  wild  eyes  and  nostrils  dis- 
tended, the  one  triumphant,  the  other  raging  and 
impotent.  Maurice  was  growing  weary  of  for- 
tune's discourtesies.  He  gazed  alternately  from 
his  own  revolver,  lying  at  his  feet,  to  the  one  in 
the  hand  of  this  unexpected  visitant.  Only  two 
miles  between  him  and  freedom,  yet  he  must  turn 
back.  The  Colonel  had  reckoned  without  Madame, 
and  therefore  without  reason.  This  man  had 
probably  got  around  in  front  of  him  when  he 
climbed  the  tree.  He  turned  sullenly  and  started 
to  walk  away,  expecting  to  be  followed. 

"Halt !     Where    the   devil   are   you   going  ?" 

"Why,  back  to  your  cursed  chateau!"  Maurice 
answered  surlily. 

The  strange  trooper  laughed  discordantly. 
"Back  to  the  chateau?  I  think  not.  Now,  then, 
right  about  face — march !  Aye,  toward  the  fron- 
tier; and  if  I  have  to  go  on  alone,  so  much  the 
worse  for  you.  I've  knocked  in  one  man's  head; 
if  necessary,  I'll  blow  off  the  top  of  yours.  You 
know  the  way  back  to  Bleiberg,  I  don't;  that  is 
why  I  want  your  company.  Now  march." 
363 


364         THE    PUPPET     CROWtf 

But  Maurice  did  not  march;  he  was  filled  with 
curiosity.  "Are  you  a  trooper  in  Madame  the 
duchess's  household?"  he  asked. 

"No,  curse  you !" 

"Who  are  you,  then?" 

"Come,  come;  this  will  not  pass.  No  tricks; 
you  have  been  following  me  these  twenty  min- 
utes." 

"The  deuce  I  have !"  exclaimed  Maurice,  bewil- 
dered. "To  Bleiberg,  is  it?" 

"And  without  loss  of  time.  When  we  cross  the 
Thalians  I  shall  be  perfectly  willing  to  parley 
with  you." 

"To  Bleiberg,  then,"  said  Maurice.  "Since 
that  is  my  destination,  the  devil  I  care  how  I  get 
there." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  .are  going 
to  Bleiberg?"  surprise  mingling  with  his  impa- 
tience. 

"No  place  else." 

"Are  you  a  spy?"  menacingly. 

"No  more   than   you." 

"But   that  uniform!" 

"I  fancy  yours  looks  a  good  deal  like  it,"  Maurice 
replied  testily. 

"I  confess  I  never  saw  you  before,  and  your 
tongue  has  a  foreign  twist,"  with  growing  doubt. 

"I  am  sure  I  never  saw  you  before,  nor  want 
to  see  you  again." 

"What  are  you   doing   in   that  uniform?" 

"You  have  the  advantage  of  me;  suppose  you 
begin  the  introduction?" 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         365 

"Indeed  I  have  the  advantage  of  you,  and  pro- 
pose to  maintain  it.  Who  are  you  and  what  are 
you  doing  here  ?  Answer !" 

There  was  something  in  the  young  man's  as- 
pect which  convinced  Maurice  that  it  would  be 
folly  to  trifle.  Besides,  he  gave  to  his  words  an 
air  which  distinguishes  the  man  who  commands 
from  the  man  who  serves.  Maurice  briefly  ac- 
quainted the  young  man  with  his  name  and  posi- 
tion. 

"And  you?"  he  asked. 

"I?"  The  young  man  laughed  again.  It  was 
an  unpleasant  laugh.  "Never  mind  who  I  am. 
Let  us  go,  we  are  losing  time.  What  is  the  date?" 
suddenly. 

"The  twentieth  of  September,"  answered  Maurice. 

"My  God,  a  day  too  late!"  The  young  man 
had  an  attack  of  vertigo,  and  was  obliged  to  lean 
against  a  tree  for  support.  "Are  you  telling  me 
the  truth  about  yourself?" 

"I  am.  I  myself  was  attempting  to  dispense 
with  the  questionable  hospitality  of  the  Red 
Chateau — good  Lord!"  striking  his  forehead. 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"Are  you  the  mysterious  prisoner  of  the  chateau, 
the  man  they  have  been  keeping  at  the  end  of 
the  east  corridor  on  the  third  floor?" 

"Yes.  And  woe  to  the  woman  who  kept  me 
there!  How  came  you  there?" 

Maurice,  confident  that  something  extraordinary 
was  taking  place,  related  in  synopsis  his  adven- 
tures. 

"And  this  cursed  Englishman?" 


366         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

"Will  drain  a  bitter  cup.  Madame  is  playing 
with  him." 

"And  the  king;  is  he  dead?" 

"He  is  dying."  Maurice's  wonder  grew.  What 
part  had  this  strange  young  man  in  this  comedy, 
which  was  rapidly  developing  into  a  tragedy? 

"And  her  Highness — her  Royal  Highness?"  eag- 
erly clutching  Maurice  hy  the  arm;  "and  she?" 

"She  does  not  murmur,  though  both  her  pride 
and  her  heart  ao  sore.  She  has  scarcely  a 
dozen  friends.  Her  paralytic  father  is  the  theme 
of  ribald  jest;  and  now  they  laugh  at  her  because 
the  one  man  who  perhaps  could  have  saved  the 
throne  has  deserted  her  like  a  coward.  Hang 
him,  I  say!" 

"What   do  they   say?"    The  tones  were  hollow. 

"They  say  he  is  enamoured  of  a  peasant  girl, 
and  dallies  with  her,  forgetting  his  sacred  vows, 
his  promised  aid,  and  perhaps  even  this,  his  wed- 
ding day." 

"God  help  him!"  was  the  startling  and  despair- 
ing cry.  .  .  .  He  was  again  seized  with  the 
vertigo,  and  swayed  against  the  tree.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  forgot  Maurice,  covered  his  face  with  his 
unengaged  hand,  and  sobbed. 

Maurice  was  helpless;  he  could  offer  no  conso- 
lation. This  grief  he  could  not  understand.  He 
stooped  and  picked  up  his  revolver  and  waited. 

"  I  am  weak,"  said  the  other  man,  dashing  his 
hand  from  his  eyes;  "  I  am  weak  and  half  starved. 
It  would  be  better  for  all  concerned  if  I  blew  out 
my  brains.  The  twentieth,  the  twentieth !"  he  re- 
peated, dully.  "Curse  herl"  he  burst  forth;  "as 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         367 

there's  a  God  above  us,  I'll  have  revenge.  Aye, 
I'll  return  to  the  chateau,  Madame,  that  I  will, 
but  at  the  head  of  ten  thousand  men !  .  .  . 
The  twentieth!  She  will  never  forgive  me;  she 
will  think  I,  too,  deserted  her !"  He  broke  down 
again. 

"An  army!"  cried  Maurice. 

"Aye,  and  ten  thousand  men!  Come,"  taking 
Maurice  by  the  arm;  "come,  they  may  be  seeking 
us.  To  the  frontier.  Every  hour  is  precious. 
To  a  telegraph  office !  We  shall  see  if  I  dally  with 
peasant  girls,  if  I  forsake  the  woman  I  love!'' 

"You?"  Maurice  retreated  a  step.  The  silver 
moonshine  became  tinged  with  red. 

"I  am  Prince  Frederick,  and  I  love  her  High- 
ness. I  would  sacrifice  a  thousand  kingdoms  to 
spare  her  a  moment's  sorrow.  I  have  always  loved 
her." 

"What  a  woman !"  Maurice  murmured,  as  the 
scheme  of  Madame's  flashed  through  his  mind- 
"What  a  woman !  And  she  had  the  audacity  to 
kidnap  you,  too !  " 

"And  by  the  most  dishonorable  device.  I  and 
my  suite  of  gentlemen  were  coming  to  Bleiberg  to 
make  the  final  arrangements.  At  Ehrenstein  I 
received  a  telegram  which  requested  me  to  visit 
till  the  following  train  a  baron  who  was  formerly 
a  comrade  of  my  father.  The  telegram  advised 
me  of  his  sudden  illness,  and  that  he  had  some- 
thing important  to  disclose  to  me.  I  bade  my 
gentlemen,  save  one,  proceed  to  Bleiberg.  My 
aide  -«nd  I  entered  the  carriage  which  was  to  con- 
vey us  to  the  castlo.  We  never  reached  it.  On 


368         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

the  road  we  fell  into  an  ambush,  a  contrivance  or 
Madame's.  I  was  brought  to  the  chateau.  What- 
ever happened  to  Hofer,  my  aide,  I  do  not  know. 
Doubtless  he  is  dead.  But  Madame  shall  pay, 
both  in  pride  and  wealth.  I  will  lay  waste  this 
duchy  of  hers,  though  in  the  end  the  emperor 
crush  me.  Let  us  be  off." 

They  stumbled  on  through  the  forest.  So 
confused  was  Maurice  that  he  forgot  his  usual  cau- 
tion. The  supreme  confidence  of  this  woman  and 
the  flawlessness  of  her  schemes  dazed  him.  So  far 
she  had  stopped  at  nothing;  where  would  she  end? 
A  Napoleon  in  petticoats,  she  was  about  to  appall 
the  confederation.  She  had  suppressed  a  prince 
who  was  heir  to  a  kingdom  triple  in  power  and  size 
to  the  kingdom  which  she  coveted.  Madame  the 
duchess  was  relying  on  some  greater  power,  else 
her  plans  were  madness. 

As  for  the  prince,  he  had  but  one  thought:  to 
reach  Bleiberg.  The  confinement,  together  with 
mental  suffering,  anxiety  and  forced  inaction,  be- 
gan to  tell  on  him.  Twice  he  tripped  and  fell, 
and  Maurice  had  to  return  to  assist  him  to  his  feet. 
However  could  they  cross  the  mountains,  a  feat 
which  needed  both  courage  and  extreme  physical 
endurance  ? 

"I  am  so  weak,"  said  the  prince,  "so  pitiably 
weak!  I  thought  to  frighten  the  woman  by  starv- 
ing myself,  poor  fool  that  I  was!" 

And  they  went  on  again.  Maurice  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  the  effect  of  his  wine-bibbing;  he  had 
a  splitting  headache. 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         369 

"Silence !"  he  suddenly  whispered,  sinking  and 
dragging  the  prince  with  him. 

A  hundred  yards  in  advance  of  them  stood  a  sen- 
tinel, his  body  bent  forward  and  a  hand  to  his  ear. 
Presently  he,  too,  lay  down.  Five  minutes  passed. 
The  sentinel  rose,  and  convinced  that  his  ears  had 
tricked  him,  resumed  his  lonely  patrol.  He  dis- 
appeared toward  the  west,  while  the  fugitives  made 
off  in  an  easterly  direction.  Maurice  was  a  sol- 
dier again.  Every  two  or  three  hundred  yards  he 
knelt  and  pressed  his  ear  to  the  cold,  damp  earth 
and  waited  for  a  familiar  jar.  The  prince  watched 
these  movements  with  interest. 

"You  have  been  a  soldier?"  he  asked. 

"Yes.  Perhaps  we  had  better  strike  out  for  the 
mountains.  The  sentry  line  can  not  extend  as  far 
as  this." 

But  now  they  could  see  the  drab  peaks  of  the 
mountains  which  loomed  between  the  partly  dis- 
mantled trees.  Beyond  lay  the  kingdom.  Would 
they  ever  reach  it?  There  was  only  one  pass;  this 
they  dared  not  make.  Yet  if  they  attempted  to 
cioss  the  mountains  in  a  deserted  place,  they  might 
very  easily  get  lost;  for  in  some  locations  it  was 
fully  six  miles  across  the  range,  and  this,  with  the 
ups  and  downs  and  windings  in  and  out,  might 
lengthen  into  twenty  miles.  They  struck  out  to- 
ward the  mountains,  and  after  half  an  hour  they 
^ame  upon  an  unforeseen  obstacle.  They  sat  down 
in  despair.  This  obstacle  was  the  river,  not  very 
wide,  but  deep,  turbulent  and  impassable. 

"We  shall  have  to  risk  the  pass,"  said  Maurice, 


370         THE    PUPPET     CKOWN 

gloomily;  "though  heaven  knows  how  we  are  to  get 
through  it.  We  have  ten  shots  between  us." 

They  followed  the  river.  The  roar  of  it  dead- 
ened all  other  sounds.  For  a  mile  they  plodded 
on,  silent,  watchful  and  meditative.  The  prince 
thought  of  his  love;  Maurice  tried  to  forget  his. 
For  him  the  romance  had  come  to  an  end,  its  log- 
ical end;  and  it  was  now  only  a  question  of  getting 
back  to  the  world  to  which  he  belonged  and  remain- 
ing there.  He  recalled  a  line  he  had  read  some- 
where: a  deep  love,  gashes  into  the  soul  as  a 
scar  is  hewn  upon  the  body  and  remains  there 
during  the  whole  life.  .  .  . 

"Look!"  cried  the  prince.  He  pointed  toward 
the  west. 

Maurice  came  out  of  his  dream  and  looked. 
Some  distance  west  of  the  pass,  perhaps  half  a  mile 
from  where  they  stood,  Maurice  saw  the  twinkle  of 
a  hundred  campfires.  It  was  Madame's  army  in 
bivouac. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  asked  the  prince. 

"It  means  that  the  duchess  is  on  the  eve  of  strik- 
ing a  blow  for  her  crown,"  answered  Maurice. 
"And  how  are  we  to  make  the  pass,  which  is  proba- 
bly filled  with  soldiers?  If  only  we  could  find  a 
boat!  Ah!  what  would  your  Highness  call  this?" 
He  pointed  to  a  thread-like  line  of  bare  earth  which 
wended  riverward. 

"A  sheep  or  cattle  path,"  said  the  prince,  after  a 
close  inspection. 

"Then  the  river  is  perhaps  fordable  here !"  ex- 
claimed Maurice  jubilantly.  "At  any  rate,  we'll 
try  it;  if  it  gets  too  deep,  we'll  come  back." 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         371 

He  walked  to  the  water's  edge,  studied  the  black 
whirling  mass,  shrugged  and  stepped  in.  The 
prince  came  after  him,  unhesitatingly.  Both  shiv- 
ered. The  water  was  intensely  cold.  But  the  bed 
was  shallow,  and  the  river  never  mounted  above  the 
waist.  However,  in  midstream  it  rushed  strongly 
and  wildly  along,  and  all  but  carried  them 
off  their  feet.  They  arrived  in  safety  at  the  oppo- 
site shore,  weak  and  cold  in  body,  but  warm  in 
spirit.  They  lay  on  the  grass  for  several  moments, 
breathing  heavily.  They  might  now  gain  the  pass 
by  clambering  up  the  mountain  and  picking  their 
way  down  from  the  other  side.  It  was  not  possi- 
ble that  Madame's  troopers  had  entered  into  the 
kingdom. 

"I  am  giving  out,"  the  prince  confessed  reluct- 
antly. "Let  us  make  as  much  headway  as  we  can 
while  I  last." 

They  stood  up.  Now  the  moon  fell  upon  them 
both;  and  they  viewed  each  other  with  no  little 
curiosity.  What  the  prince  saw  pleased  him,  for 
he  possessed  a  good  eye.  What  Maurice  saw  was  a 
frank,  manly  countenance,  youthful,  almost  boy- 
ish. The  prince  did  not  look  to  be  more  than  three 
and  twenty,  if  that;  but  there  was  a  man's  determi- 
nation in  his  jaw.  This  jaw  pleased  Maurice,  for 
it  confided  to  him  that  Madame  had  now  something 
that  would  cause  her  worry. 

"I  put  myself  in  your  care,"  said  the  prince,  of- 
fering his  hand.  "I  am  not  equal  to  much.  A 
man  can  not  see  his  wedding  day  come  and  go  with- 
out him,  helpless  to  prevent  it,  and  not  have  the  de- 
sire to  sit  down  and  weep  and  curse.  You  will  see 


372         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

nothing  but  the  unfavorable  side  of  me  for  the  next 
dozen  hours." 

"I'm  not  altogether  amiable  myself/'  replied 
Maurice  with  a  short  laugh.  "Let  us  get  out  of 
the  moonlight,"  he  added;  "we  are  somewhat  con- 
spicuous, and  besides,  we  should  keep  moving; 
this  cold  is  paralyzing.  Is  your  Highness  equal  to 
the  climbing?" 

"Equal  or  not,  lead  the  way.  If  I  fall  I'll  call 
you/' 

And  the  weary  march  began  again;  over  boul- 
ders, through  tangles  of  tough  shrubbery,  up  steep 
inclines,  around  precipices,  sometimes  enveloped 
in  mists,  yet  still  they  kept  on.  Often  the  prince 
fell  over  ragged  stones,  but  he  picked  himself  up 
without  assistance;  though  he  swore  some,  Maurice 
thought  none  the  less  of  him  for  that  bit  of  human 
weakness.  The  cold  was  numbing,  and  neither 
felt  the  cuts  and  bruises. 

After  two  hours  of  this  fatiguing  labor  they  ar- 
rived upon  a  small  plateau,  about  two  thousand 
feet  above  the  valley.  The  scene  was  solemn  and 
imposing.  The  world  seemed  lying  at  their  feet. 
The  chateau,  half  hidden  in  the  mist,  spark led 
like  an  opal.  Maurice  scowled  at  it.  To  the  prince 
the  vision  was  as  reviving  as  a  glass  of  wine.  He 
threatened  it  with  his  fist,  and  plunged  on  with  re- 
newed vigor.  There  are  few  sensations  so  stimu- 
lating as  the  thought  of  a  complete  revenge.  The 
angle  of  vision  presently  changed,  and  the  historic 
pile  vanished.  Maurice  never  saw  the  Red  Chateau 
again. 

Little     more     in     the     way     of     mishap     be  fell 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         373 

them ;  and  when  the  moon  had  wheeled  half  way 
down  from  the  zenith,  the  kingdom  lay  below  them. 
A  descent  of  an  hour's  duration  brought  them  into 
the  pass.  Maurice  calculated  that  nearly  five 
hours  had  passed  since  he  left  the  chateau;  for  the 
blue  was  fading  in  the  east.  The  phantom  vitality 
of  the  prince  now  forsook  him ;  his  legs  refused 
their  offices,  and  he  sank  upon  a  boulder,  his  head 
in  his  hands.  Maurice  was  not  much  better;  but 
the  prince  had  given  him  the  burden  of  responsibil- 
ity, and  he  was  determined  to  hold  up  under  it. 

"If  your  Highness  will  remain  here,"  he  said,  "I 
will  fetch  assistance,  for  the  barrack  can  not  be  far 
off." 

The  prince  nodded  and  Maurice  tramped  away. 
But  the  miniature  barrack  and  the  quaint  stone 
customs  houso  both  were  wrapt  in  gloom  and  dark- 
ness. Maurice  investigated.  Both  buildings  were 
deserted;  there  was  no  sign  of  life  about.  He  broke 
a  window,  and  entered  the  customs  office.  Remem- 
bering that  Colonel  Mollendorf  smoked,  he  searched 
the  inner  pocket  of  his  coat.  He  drew  forth  a  box 
of  wax  matches,  struck  one  and  looked  about.  A 
struggle  had  taken  place.  Evidences  were  strewn 
on  the  floor.  The  telegraph  operator's  table  had 
been  smashed  into  bits,  the  instrument  twisted  oui; 
of  shape,  the  jars  broken  and  the  wires  cut.  Like 
indications  of  a  disturbance  were  also  found  in  the 
barrack. 

Maurice  began  to  comprehend.  Madame's  troop- 
ers had  crossed  the  frontier,  but  they  had  re- 
turned again,  taking  with  them  the  handful 
of  troopers  belonging  to  the  king.  It  was  plain 


374         THE    PUPPET     CROWX 

that  the  object  of  this  skirmish  had  been  to  destroy 
communications  between  Bleiberg  and  the  frontier. 
Madame  desired  to  effect  a  complete  surprise,  to 
swoop  down  on  the  capital  before  it  could  bring 
a  large  force  into  the  field. 

There  is  an  unwritten  law  that  when  one 
country  intends  to  wage  war  against  its  neigh- 
bor a  formal  declaration  shall  be  made.  But 
again  Madame  had  forsaken  the  beaten  paths. 
More  than  three  weeks  had  passed  since  the  duchy's 
representative  in  Bleiberg  had  been  discredited  and 
given  his  passports.  At  once  the  duchess  had  re- 
taliated by  discrediting  the  king's  representative  in 
Brunnstadt.  Ordinarily  this  would  have  been  un- 
derstood as  a  mutual  declaration  of  war.  Instead, 
both  governments  ignored  each  other,  one  sus- 
piciously, the  other  intentionally.  All  of  which  is 
to  say,  the  gage  of  war  had  been  flung,  but  neither 
had  stooped  to  pick  it  up. 

Perhaps  Madame  expected  by  this  sudden  aggres- 
siveness to  win  her  fight  with  as  little  loss  of  blood 
as  possible,  which-  in  justice  to  her  was  to  her 
credit.  Again,  a  declaration  of  war  openly  made 
might  have  moved  the  confederation  to  veto  it  by 
coercion.  To  win  without  loss  of  life  would  leave 
the  confederation  powerless  to  act.  Therefore  it 
will  be  seen  that  Madame  was  not  only  a  daring 
woman,  but  a  general  of  no  mean  ability. 

This  post  was  an  isolated  one;  between  it  and 
Bleiberg  there  was  not  even  a  village.  The  main 
pass  from  the  kingdom  into  the  duchy  was  about 
thirty  miles  east.  Here  was  a  small  but  lively 
city  named  Coberg,  a  railway  center,  garrisoned 


375 


by  one  thousand  troops.  At  this  pass  Madame's 
contemplated  stroke  of  war  would  have  been  impos- 
sible. The  railway  ran  directly  from  Coberg  to 
Brunnstadt,  fifty  miles  south  of  the  frontier.  A 
branch  of  the  railway  ran  from  Brunnstadt  to  a 
small  town  seven  miles  south  of  the  Eed  Chateau, 
which  accounts  for  the  ease  with  which  Madame's 
troops  had  reached  the  isolated  pass.  It  was 
now  likely  that  Madame  would  arrive  before  Blei- 
berg  ere  her  enemies  dreamed  of  the  stroke.  Mau- 
rice could  see  how  well  the  traitorous  administra- 
tion had  played  into  Madame's  hands.  Here  was 
the  one  weak  spot,  and  they  had  allowed  it  to  re- 
main thus  weak. 

"The  kingdom  is  lost/'  thought  Maurice.  "His 
Highness  and  I  may  as  well  return  to  the  chateau, 
for  all  the  good  our  escape  will  do  us.  Hang  them 
all !" 

He  began  to  forage,  and  discovered  a  bottle  full 
of  peach  brandy.  He  drank  half  the  contents,  re- 
serving the  remainder  for  the  prince.  As  he 
lowered  the  bottle  there  came  a  sound  which 
caused  him  almost  to  lose  hold  of  the  vigorous 
tonic.  The  sound  he  heard  was  the  shrill  whinney 
of  a  horse.  He  pocketed  the  bottle  and  dashed  out 
to  the  stables.  To  his  joy  several  horses  stamped 
restlessly  in  the  stalls.  The  attacking  party  had 
without  doubt  come  on  foot.  He  led  out  two,  sad- 
dled and  bridled  them  and  returned  to  the  prince, 
who  had  fallen  asleep.  Maurice  roused  him. 

"To  Bleiberg,  your  Highness,"  he  cried,  at  the 
same  time  offering  the  bottle,  which  the  prince  did 
not  hesitate  to  empty. 


376         THE    PUPPET    CROWX 

"Ha !"  staggering  to  his  feet.  "Where  are  the 
men?" 

Maurice  explained  the  cause  of  their  absence. 
The  prince  swore,  and  climbed  with  difficulty  into 
the  saddle. 

"Thank  God,"  he  said,  as  they  galloped  away, 
"we  shall  be  there  first." 

"Adieu,  Madame !"  Maurice  cried,  airily.  He 
was  free. 

"To  our  next  meeting,  duchess!"  The  prince, 
too,  was  free,  but  he  thirsted  for  a  full  revenge. 

They  had  been  on  the  way  but  a  short  time  when 
Maurice  lifted  his  arm. 

"Look !" 

The  prince  raised  his  head.  It  was  dawn, 
yellow  and  cold  and  pure. 

They  fell  into  silence;  sometimes  Maurice 
caught  himself  coimting  the  beat  of  the  hoofs 
and  the  variation  of  sounds,  as  when  they  struck 
sand  or  slate,  or  crossed  small  wooden  bridges. 
Here  and  there  he  saw  peasants  going  into  the 
fields  to  begin  the  long,  long  day  of  toil.  The  sad- 
dle on  which  he  sat  had  been  the  property  of  a  short 
man,  for  the  stirrups  wore  too  high,  and  the  prince's 
were  too  low.  But  neither  desired  to  waste  time  to 
adjust  them.  And  so  they  rode  with  dangling  legs 
and  bodies  sunken  in  the  saddles;  mute,  as  if  by 
agreement. 

They  had  gone  perhaps  ten  miles  when  they  per- 
ceived a  horse  flying  toward  them,  half  a  mile  away. 
The  rider  was  not  yet  visible.  They  felt  no  alarm, 
but  instinctively  they  drew  together.  Nearer  and 
nearer  came  the  lonely  horseman,  and  as  the  dis- 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         377 

tance  lessened  into  some  hundred  yards  they  dis- 
cerned the  flutter  of  a  gown. 

"A  woman!"  exclaimed  Maurice.  "And  alone 
this  time  of  morning!" 

"Eh?"  cried  the  prince;  "and  heading  for  the 
duchy?  Let  us  wait." 

They  drew  up  to  the  side  of  the  highway.  The 
woman  came  fearlessly  on,  her  animal's  head  down 
and  his  tail  flaring  out  behind.  On,  on;  abreast  of 
them;  as  she  flew  past  there  was  a  vision  of  a  pale, 
determined  face,  a  blond  head  bared  to  the  chill 
wind.  She  heeded  not  their  challenge;  it  was  a 
question  whether  or  not  she  heard  it.  They  stood 
watching  her  until  she  and  her  horse  dwindled  into  a 
mere  moving  speck,  finally  to  become  lost  alto- 
gether in  a  crook  of  the  road. 

"I  should  like  to  know  what  that  means,"  said 
Maurice. 

"It  is  very  strange/'  the  prince  said,  musingly. 
"I  have  seen  that  woman  before.  She  is  one  of  the 
dancers  at  the  opera." 

"Mayhap  she  has  a  lover  on  the  other  side." 

"Mayhap.  Let  us  be  on.  There's  the  sun,  and 
we  are  a  good  thirteen  miles  away !"  and  the  prince 
slapped  the  neck  of  his  horse,  which  bounded  for- 
ward. 

This  tiring  pace  they  maintained  until  they 
mounted  the  hill  from  which  they  could  see  the 
glittering  spires  of  the  city,  and  the  Werter  See  as 
it  flashed  back  the  sunlight. 

"Bleiberg!"    Maurice  waved  his  hand. 

"Thanks  to  you,  that  I  look  on  it." 


378         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  they  passed  under  the 
city  gates. 

"Monsieur,  will  you  go  with  me  to  the  palace?" 
asked  the  prince. 

"If  your  Highness  will  excuse  me,"  said  Maurice ; 
"no,  I  should  be  in  the  way;  and  besides  I  am  dead 
for  want  of  sleep." 

"I  shall  never  sleep,"  grumbled  the  prince,  "till 
I  have  humbled  that  woman.  And  you?  Have 
you  no  rankle  in  your  heart?  Have  you  no  desire 
to  witness  that  woman's  humiliation?" 

"Your  Highness,  I  belong  to  a  foreign  country." 

"No  matter;  be  my  aide.  Come;  I  offer  you  a 
complete  revenge  for  the  treatment  you  have  re- 
ceived at  Madame's  hands.  Your  government  shall 
never  know." 

Maurice  studied  the  mane  of  his  horse.  Sud- 
denly he  made  a  gesture.  This  gesture  consigned 
to  the  four  winds  his  diplomatic  career.  "I  ac- 
cept," he  said.  "You  will  find  me  at  the  Continen- 
tal. I  confess  that  I  have  no  love  for  this  woman. 
She  has  robbed  me  of  no  little  conceit." 

"To  the  palace,  then;  to  the  palace!  And  this 
hour  to-morrow  we,  you  and  I,  will  drink  to  her 
Royal  Highness  at  the  Red  Chateau.  To  the  pal- 
ace!" 

Up  the  Strasse  they  raced,  through  the  lower 
town  to  the  upper,  and  down  the  broad  asphalt  to 
the  palace  gates.  The  prince  rushed  his  horse  to 
the  very  bars  and  shook  them  in  his  wild  impa- 
tience. 

"Ho!  open,  open!"  he  called. 

Several  cuirassiers  lounged  about.     At  the  sight 


THE. PUPPET    CROWH         3^ 

of  these  two  hatless,  bedraggled  men  storming  the 
gates,  they  ran  forward  with  drawn  swords  and  an- 
gry cries.  Lieutenant  Scharfenstein  was  among 
them.  At  second  glance  he  recognized  Maurice, 
who  hailed  him. 

"Open,  Lieutenant,"  he  cried ;  "it  is  his  Highness, 
Prince  Frederick  I" 

The  bars  came  down,  the  gates  swung  in. 

"Go  and  sleep,"  said  the  prince  to  Maurice;  "I 
will  send  an  orderly  for  you  when  the  time  comes."' 
And  with  this  he  dashed  up  the  driveway  to  the 
main  entrance  of  the  palace,  leaped  from  his  horse 
and  disappeared. 

Maurice  wheeled  and  drove  leisurely  to  the  Con- 
tinental, leaving  the  amazed  cuirassiers  gaping  af- 
ter him.  He  experienced  that  exuberance  of 
spirits  which  always  comes  with  a  delightful  day 
dream.  He  forgot  his  weariness,  his  bruises.  To 
mingle  directly  in  the  affairs  of  kings  and  princes, 
to  be  a  factor  among  factors  who  surround  and  up- 
hold thrones,  seemed  so  at  variance  with  his  repub- 
lican learning  that  he  was  not  sure  that  all  this  was 
not  one  long  dream — Fitzgerald  and  his  consols, 
the  meeting  with  the  princess,  the  adventures  at 
Madame's  chateau,  the  duel  with  Beauvais,  the  last 
night's  flight  with  the  prince  across  the  mount- 
ains! Yes;  he  had  fallen  asleep  somewhere  and 
hud  been  whisked  away  into  a  kind  of  fairyland, 
livery  one  was  in  trouble  just  now,  as  they  al- 
\\uys  are  in  certain  chapters  of  fairy  tales,  but  all 
\\ould  end  happily,  and  then — he  would  wake. 

Meanwhile  the  prince  entered  the  palace  and  was 


380         THE    PUPPET     C  EO  W  N 

proceeding  up  the  grand  corridor,  when  a  bared 
sword  stayed  his  progress. 

"Monsieur,"  said  von  Mitter,  "you  have  lost 
your  way.  You  can  not  enter  here." 

"I?"  a  haughty,  threatening  expression  on  his 
pale  face.  "Are  you  sure?" 

Yon  Mitter  fell  back  against  the  wall  and  all 
but  lost  hold  of  his  saber.  "Your  Highness?"  he 
gasped,  overcome. 

"Even  so !"  said  the  prince.  "The  archbishop ! 
the  Marshal !  Lead  me  to  them  at  once !" 

Von  Mitter  was  too  much  the  soldier  not  to  mas- 
ter his  surprise  at  once.  He  saluted,  clicked  his 
heels  and  limped  toward  the  throne  room.  He 
stopped  at  the  threshold,  saluted  again,  and,  in  a 
voice  full  of  quavers,  announced: 

"His  Highness  Prince  Frederick  of  Carnavia." 

He  stepped  aside,  and  the  prince  pushed  past 
him  into  the  throne  room.  At  this  dramatic  en- 
trance there  rose  from  the  archbishop,  the  Marshal, 
the  princess,  the  Carnavian  ambassador,  from  all  the 
court  dignitaries,  a  cry  of  wonder  and  astonishment. 

"His  Highness!" 

"Aye!"  cried  the  prince,  brokenly,  for  his  joy  at 
seeing  the  princess  nigh  overcame  him.  "I  have 
been  a  prisoner  of  Madame'*,  who  at  this  moment 
is  marching  on  Bleiberg  with  an  army  four  thou- 
sand strong !"  And  stumblingly  he  related  his 
misadventures. 

The  Marshal  did  not  wait  until  he  had  done, 
nor  did  the  new  Colonel  of  the  cuirassiers;  both 
rushed  from  the  room.  The  archbishop  frowned; 
while  the  princess  and  the  court  stared  at  the 


THE     PUPPET     CKOWN         381 

prince  with  varying  emotions.  Before  the  final 
word  had  passed  his  lips,  he  approached  her  High- 
ness, fell  on  his  knee  and  raised  her  hand  to  his 
lips.  He  noticed  not  how  cold  it  was. 

"Thank  God,  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  "that  once 
more  I  look  into  your  eyes.  And  if  one  wedding  day 
is  gone — well,  there  is  yet  time  for  another!"  He 
rose,  and  proudly  before  them  all  he  drew  her  toward 
him  and  kissed  her  cheek.  It  was  his  right ;  she  was 
the  light  of  all  his  dreams,  at  once  his  bride-to-be  and 
lady-love.  But  in  his  joy  and  eagerness  he  did  not 
see  how  pale  she  grew  at  the  touch 'of  his  lips,  nor 
how  the  lids  of  her  eyes  trembled  and  fell. 

Next  the  prince  recounted  Maurice's  adventures, 
how  he  became  connected  with  those  at  the  chateau, 
even  Fitzgerald's  fall  from  grace.  The  indignation 
and  surprise  which  was  accorded  this  recital  was  un- 
bounded. 

The  brown  eyes  of  the  princess  filled.  In  a  mo- 
ment she  had  traversed  the  space  of  ten  years  to  a 
rare  September  noon,  when  a  gray-haired  old  man 
had  kissed  her  hand  and  praised  her  speech.  A  young 
dog  stood  beside  her,  ready  for  a  romp  in  the  park. 
Across  the  path  sat  her  father,  who  was  smiling,  and 
who  would  never  smile  again.  How  many  times  had 
her  girlish  fancy  pictured  the  son  of  that  old  man ! 
How  many  times  had  she  dreamed  of  him — aye, 
prayed  for  him !  The  room  grew  dark,  and  she 
pressed  her  hand  over  her  heart.  To  her  the  future 
was  empty  indeed.  There  was  nothing  left  but  the 
vague  perfume  of  the  past,  the  faint  incense  of  futile, 
childish  dreams.  To  stand  on  the  very  threshold  of 


382         THE     PUPPET     GROWN 

life,  and  yet  to  see  no  joy  beyond!  She  struggled 
against  the  sob  which  rose,  and  conquered  it. 

"To  arms,  Messieurs,  to  arms !"  cried  the  prince, 
feverishly.  "To  arms!" 

The  archbishop  stepped  forward  and  took  the 
prince's  hand  in  his  own. 

"God  wills  all  things,"  he  said,  sadly,  "and  per- 
haps he  has  willed  that  your  Highness  should  come 
too  late !"  And  that  strange,  habitual  smile  was 
gone — forever.  No  one  could  fathom  the  true  sig- 
nificance of  this  peculiar  speech. 

"But  "aux  Urmes"  was  taken  up,  and  spread 
throughout  the  city. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   FORTUNES   OF    WAR 

War !  The  whole  city  was  in  tumult.  The  guests 
were  leaving  the  hotels,  the  timid  were  preparing  to 
fly,  and  shopkeepers  were  putting  up  their  blinds  and 
hiding  their  valuables;  the  parks  and  cafes  were  de- 
serted. The  railway  booking  office  was  crowded,  and 
a  babel  of  tongues  quarreled  for  precedence.  The 
siege  of  Paris  was  but  yesterday's  news,  and  tourists 
did  not  propose  to  be  walled  in  from  the  outer  world. 
Some  looked  upon  the  scene  as  a  comic  opera ;  others 
saw  the  tragedy  of  men  snarling  at  one  another's 
throats. 

Two  hundred  gendarmes  patrolled  the  streets; 
for  in  war  time  the  dregs  of  a  city  float  to  the 
surface.  Above  the  foreign  legations  flags  rose, 
offering  protection  to  all  those  who  possessed  the 
right  to  claim  it.  Less  than  four  thousand  troops 
had  marched  from  the  city  that  day,  but  these  were 
the  flower  of  the  army,  consisting  of  two  thousand 
foot,  six  cannon  and  twelve  hundred  horse.  Europe 
has  always  depended  largely  on  the  cavalry,  which 
in  the  past  has  been  a  most  formidable  engine  in 
warfare. 

With     gay     plumes     and     banners,     glittering 

383 


384         THE     PUPPET     CEOWN 

helmets  and  flashing  cuirasses,  they  had  gone 
forth  to  meet  Madame  and  drive  her  back  across 
the  range.  They  had  made  a  brave  picture,  espe- 
cially the  royal  cuirassiers,  who  numbered  three  hun- 
died  strong,  and  who  were  to  fight  not  only  for  glory, 
but  for  bread.  Fifty  of  them  had  been  left  behind 
to  guard  the  palaces. 

In  the  royal  bedchamber  the  king  lay,  all  uncon- 
scious of  the  fate  impending.  The  brain  had  ceased 
to  live;  only  a  feeble  pulse  stirred  irregularly.  The 
state  physician  shook  his  head,  and,  from  time  to 
time,  laid  his  fingers  on  the  unfeeling  wrist.  To 
him  it  was  a  matter  of  a  few  hours. 

But  to  the  girl,  whose  face  lay  hidden  in  the  coun- 
terpane, close  to  one  of  those  senseless  hands,  to  her 
it  was  a  matter  of  a  breaking  heart,  of  eyes  which 
could  be  no  longer  urged  to  tears,  the  wells  having 
dried  up.  Dear  God,  she  thought,  how  cruel  it  was ! 
Her  tried  and  trusted  friend,  the  one  playmate 
of  her  childhood,  was  silently  slipping  out  of  her  life 
forever.  Ah,  what  to  her  were  crowns  and  kingdoms, 
aye,  and  even  war  ?  Her  father  dead,  what  mattered 
it  who  reigned  ?  How  she  prayed  that  he  might  live ! 
They  would  go  away  together,  and  live  in  peace  and 
quiet,  undisturbed  by  the  storms  of  intrigue.  .  .  . 
It  was  not  to  be;  he  was  dying.  She  would  be  the 
wife  of  no  man ;  her  father,  hovering  in  spirit  above 
her.  would  read  her  heart  and  understand.  Dead,  he 
would  ask  no  sacrifice  of  her.  Henceforth  only  God 
would  be  her  king,  and  she  would  worship  him  in 
seme  sacred  convent. 

The  old  valet,  who  had  served  his  master  from  boy- 
hood, stood  in  the  anteroom  and  fumbled  his  lips. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN 


his  faded  eyes  red  with  weeping.  He  was  losing  the 
only  friend  he  had.  Elsewhere  the  servants  wan- 
dered about  restlessly,  waiting  for  news  from  the 
front,  to  learn  if  they,  too,  were  to  join  in  the  mad 
flight  from  the  city.  Few  servants  love  masters  in 
adversity.  Self-interest  is  the  keynote  to  their  ex- 
istences. 

In  the  east  wing  three  men  were  holding  a  whis- 
pered consultation.  The  faros  of  two  were  pale  and 
deep-lined  ;  the,  face  of  the  third  expressed  a  mixture 
of  condolence  and  triumph.  These  three  gentlemen 
were  the  archbishop,  the  chancellor  and  the  Austrian 
ambassador.  History  has  not  taken  into  account 
what  passed  between  these  three  men,  but  subsequent 
events  proved  that  it  signified  disaster  to  one  who 
dreamed  of  conquest  and  of  power. 

Said  the  ambassador,  rising:  "After  what  has 
been  said,  his  Imperial  Majesty  will,  I  can  speak  au- 
thoritatively, further  discredit  Walmoden  ;  for  I  have 
this  day  received  information  from  a  reliable  source 
which  precludes  any  rehabilitation  of  that  prince. 
My  deepest  sympathies  are  with  her  Highness;  his 
Majesty  highly  honored  her  unfortunate  father. 
Permit  me  to  bid  you  good  day,  for  you  know  that 
the  matter  under  my  hand  needs  my  immediate 
attention." 

When  he  had  gone  the  prelate  said  :  "My  friend, 
our  services  to  the  kingdom  are  nearly  over." 

"We  are  lost  !"  replied  the  chancellor.  "The  king 
is  happy,  indeed." 

"I  find,"  said  the  prelate,  "that  we  have  been  lost 
for  ten  years.  Had  this  Englishman  proved  true,  it 


386 


would  not  have  mattered;  had  Prince  Frederick  ar- 
rived in  time,  still  it  would  not  have  mattered.  But 
above  all,  I  was  determined  that  Madame  the  duchess 
should  not  triumph.  The  end  was  written  ten  years 
ago.  How  invincible  is  fate !  How  incontestible  its 
decrees  I" 

In  the  lower  town  the  students  were  preparing  a 
riot,  which  was  to  take  place  that  night.  Old  Stii- 
ler's  was  thronged.  Stiller  himself  looked  on  indif- 
ferently, even  listlessly.  He  had  heard  of  Kopf's 
death. 

It  was  half  after  five  of  the  afternoon.  Six  miles 
beyond  the  Althofen  bridge,  in  all  thirteen  miles 
from  Bleiberg,  a  long,  low  cloud  of  dust  hung 
over  the  king's  highway.  This  cloud  of  dust  was 
caused  by  the  hurried,  rhythmic  pad-pad  of  human 
feet,  the  striking  of  hoofs  and  the  wheels  of  can- 
non. It  marked  the  progress  of  an  army.  To 
the  great  surprise  of  the  Marshal,  the  prince 
and  the  staff,  they  had  pushed  thus  far  during 
the  afternoon  without  seeing  a  sign  of  the  enemy. 
Was  Madame  asleep?  Was  she  so  confident 
her  projects  were  unknown  that  she  had  chosen 
night  as  the  time  of  her  attack?  Night,  indeed, 
when  the  strength  of  her  forces  would  be  a  mat- 
ter of  conjecture  to  the  assaulted,  who  at  the  sud- 
denness of  her  approach  would  succumb  to  panic ! 
The  prince  was  jubilant  and  hopeful.  He  had  no 
doubt  that  they  would  arrive  at  the  pass  just  as 
Madame  was  issuing  forth.  This  meant  an  easy 
victory,  for  once  the  guns  covered  the  narrow  pass, 
though  Madame's  army  were  ten  times  as  strong,  its 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         387 

defeat  was  certain.     A  small  force  might  hold  it 
in  check  for  hours. 

A  squadron  of  cuirassiers  had  been  sent  forward  to 
reconnoiter,  and  as  yet  none  had  returned  with 
alarms.  The  road  had  many  windings,  and  was 
billowed  frequently  with  hills,  and  ran  through 
small  forests.  Only  the  vast  blue  bulk  of  the 
mountains  remained  ever  in  view. 

"We  shall  drink  at  the  Red  Chateau  to-night," 
said  the  prince,  gaily,  to  Maurice. 

"That  we  shall,"  replied  Maurice;  "and  the  best 
in  the  cellars." 

Only  the  Marshal  said  nothing;  he  knew  what 
war  was.  In  his  youth  he  had  served  in  Transyl- 
vania, and  he  was  not  minded  to  laugh  and  jest. 
Then,  too,  there  was  injustice  on  both  sides.  Poor 
devil !  as  his  thoughts  recurred  to  the  king. 
Touched  for  the  moment  by  the  wings  of  ambi- 
tion, which  is  at  best  a  white  vulture,  he  had 
usurped  another's  throne,  and  to  this  end !  But 
he  was  less  answerable  than  the  archbishop,  who 
had  urged  him. 

Occasionally  he  glanced  back  at  the  native  troops, 
the  foot,  the  horse,  the  artillery,  and  scowled. 
From  these  his  glance  wandered  to  the  cold, 
impassive  face  of  General  Kronau,  who  rode 
at  his  side,  and  he  rubbed  his  nose.  Kronau 
had  been  a  favorite  of  Albrecht's  .  .  .  How 
would  he  act?  In  truth,  the  Marshal's  thoughts 
were  not  altogether  pleasant.  Some  of  these  men 
surrounding  him,  exchanging  persiflage,  might 
never  witness  another  sunset.  For,  while  the  world 
would  look  upon  this  encounter  as  one  looks  upon 


388         THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

a  comedy,  for  some  it  would  serve  as  tragedy. 
Often  he  lent  his  ear  to  the  gay  banter  of  the 
young  American,  and  watched  the  careless  smile 
on  his  face.  What  was  he  doing  here?  Why  was 
he  risking  his  life  for  'no  cause  whatever,  an  alien, 
in  natural  sympathy  neither  with  the  kingdom  nor 
with  the  duchy  ?  A  sad,  grim  smile  parted  his  lips. 

"0,  the  urbanity  of  the  young  and  the  brave!" 
he  murmured. 

Maurice  felt  the  old  familiar  exhilaration — the 
soldier's  exhilaration — quicken  the  beat  of  his 
pulse.  He  did  not  ask  himself  why  he  was  here; 
he  knew  why.  A  delightful  flower  had  sprung  up 
in  his  heart,  and  fate  had  nipped  it.  Whither 
this  new  adventure  would  lead  him  he  cared  not. 
From  now  on  life  for  him  must  be  renewed  by 
continual  change  and  excitement.  Since  no  one 
depended  on  him,  his  life  was  his  to  dispose  of 
as  he  willed.  Friends?  He  laughed.  He  knew 
the  world  too  well.  He  himself  was  his  best 
friend,  for  he  had  always  been  true  to  himself. 

He  might  be  shot,  but  he  had  faced  that  pos- 
sibility before.  Besides,  to-day's  experience 
would  be  new  to  him.  He  had  never  witnessed  a 
battle  in  the  open,  man  to  man,  in  bright,  re- 
splendent uniforms.  A  ragged,  dusty  troop  of 
brown-skinned  men  in  faded  blue,  with  free  and  easy 
hats,  irregular  of  formation,  no  glory,  no  brilliancy, 
skirmishing  with  outlawed  white  men  and  cunning 
Indians,  that  was  the  extent  of  his  knowledge  by  ex- 
perience. True,  these  self-same  men  in  dingy  blue 
fought  with  a  daring  such  as  few  soldiers  living 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         389 

possessed;  but  they  lacked  the  ideal  picturesqueness 
which  made  this  army  so  attractive. 

The  sharp  edges  of  his  recent  fatigue  were  not 
yet  dulled,  but  his  cuirass  sat  lightly  upon  him, 
the  sound  of  the  dangling  saber  at  his  side  smote 
pleasantly  his  ear,  and  the  black  Mecklenberg  under 
him  was  strong  and  active.  To  return  to  Madame's 
chateau  in  the  guise  of  a  conqueror  was  a  most 
engaging  thought.  She  had  humbled  his  self-love, 
now  to  humble  hers!  He  no  longer  bothered  him- 
self about  Beauvais,  whose  case  he  had  placed  in 
the  hands  of  the  Austrian  ambassador. 

Gay  and  debonair  he  rode  that  late  September 
afternoon.  No  man  around  him  had  so  clear  an  eye 
nor  so  constant  a  vivacity.  Since  he  had  nothing 
but  his  life  to  lose,  he  had  no  fear.  Let  the  theater 
be  full  of  light  while  the  play  lasted,  and  let  the 
curtain  fall  to  a  round  of  huzzas!  For  a  few 
short  hours  ago  he  had  kissed  a  woman's  hand  and 
had  looked  into  her  sad  brown  eyes.  "Why  you  do 
this  I  do  not  know,  nor  shall  I  ask.  Monsieur,  my 
prayers  go  with  you."  Was  not  that  an  amulet? 
His  diplomatic  career!  He  fell  to  whistling. 

"Ah!  queyaime  les  militaires!" 

More  than  once  the  prince  felt  the  sting  of 
envy  in  his  heart  at  the  sight  of  this  embodiment 
of  supreme  nonchalance.  It  spoke  of  a  healthy 
salt  in  the  veins,  a  salt  such  as  kings  themselves 
can  not  always  boast  of.  A  foreigner,  a  repub- 
lican? No  matter;  a  gallant  man. 

"Monsieur,"  he  said  impulsively,  "you  shall  al- 


390         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

ways  possess  my  friendship,  once  we  are  well  out 
of  this." 

"Thanks,  your  Highness,"  replied  Maurice,  and 
laughing;  "the  after-thought  is  timely!" 

The  sun  lay  close  to  the  western  rim  of  hills; 
an  opal  sky  encompassed  the  earth;  the  air  was 
balmy. 

"The  French  call  this  St.  Martin's  summer," 
said  Maurice.  "In  my  country  we  call  it  Indian 
summer — ah !"  lifting  in  his  stirrups. 

The  army  was  approaching  a  hill,  when  sud- 
denly a  whirlwind  of  dust  rolled  over  the  summit, 
and  immediately  a  reconnoitering  patrol  came 
dashing  into  view,  waving  their  sabers  aloft.  .  .  . 
The  enemy  was  less  than  a  mile  away,  and  advanc- 
ing rapidly. 

To  anticipate.  Madame  the  duchess  had  indeed 
contemplated  striking  the  blow  at  night.  That 
morning,  like  the  brave  Amazon  she  was,  she  had 
pitched  her  tent  in  the  midst  of  her  army,  to 
marshal  and  direct  its  forces.  It  was  her  inten- 
tion to  be  among  the  first  to  enter  Bleiberg;  for 
she  was  a  soldier's  daughter,  and  could  master  the 
inherent  fears  of  her  sex. 

That  same  morning  a  woman  entered  the  lines 
and  demanded  an  audience.  What  passed  between 
her  and  Madame  the  duchess  others  never  knew. 
She  had  also  been  apprised  of  the  prisoners'  escape, 
but,  confident  that  they  would  not  be  able  to  make 
a  crossing,  she  disdained  pursuit.  The  prince  had 
missed  his  wedding  day;  he  was  no  longer  of  use 
to  her.  As  to  the  American,  he  would  become  lost, 
and  that  would  be  the  end  of  him. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         391 

But  the  Englishman.  .  .  .  He  was  con- 
science eternally  barking  at  her  heels.  The 
memory  of  that  kiss  still  rankled  in  her  mind, 
and  not  an  hour  went  by  in  which  she  did  not 
chide  herself  for  the  folly.  How  to  get  rid  of 
him  perplexed  her.  Here  he  was,  in  the  uniform 
of  a  Lieutenant-Colonel,  ready  to  go  to  any  lengths 
at  a  sign  from  her.  There  was  something  in  her 
heart  which  she  had  not  yet  analyzed.  First  of 
all,  her  crown;  as  to  her  heart,  there  was  plenty 
of  time  in  which  to  study  that  peculiar  and  un- 
stable organ.  The  possibility  of  the  prince's  arriv- 
ing in  Bleiberg  before  her  in  no  way  disturbed 
her.  Whenever  her  attack  was  made,  failure  would 
not  attend  it.  She  broke  camp  at  two  o'clock  and 
took  the  road  leisurely  toward  Bleiberg. 

Thus,  the  two  armies  faced  each  other  compara- 
tively in  the  open.  A  battle  hung  in  the  air. 

The  king's  forces  came  to  an  abrupt  halt.  Or- 
derlies dashed  to  and  fro.  The  artillery  came 
rumbling  and  creaking  to  the  front,  wheeled,  the 
guns  unlimbered  and  ranged  so  as  to  enfilade 
the  road.  The  infantry  deployed  to  right  and  left 
while  the  cavalry  swung  into  position  on  the  flanks. 
All  this  was  accomplished  with  the  equanimity  of 
a  dress  parade.  Maurice  could  not  control  his  ad- 
miration. Madame,  he  thought,  might  win  her 
crown,  but  at  a  pretty  cost. 

The  Marshal  and  the  staff  posted  themselves  on 
the  right  breast  of  the  hill,  from  whence,  by  the  aid 
of  binoculars,  they  could  see  the  enemy.  From 
time  to  time  General  Kronau  nervously  smoothed 
his  beard,  formed  his  lips  into  words,  but  did  not 


392         THE    PUPPET     CPtOWN 

utter  them,  and  glanced  slyly  from  the  corner  of 
his  eye  at  the  Marshal,  who  was  intent  on  the 
enemy's  approach.  Maurice  was  trying  with  naked 
eye  to  pierce  the  forest  and  the  rolling  ground 
beyond,  and  waiting  for  the  roar  of  the  guns. 

Orders  had  been  issued  for  the  gunners  to  get  the 
range  and  commence  firing;  but  as  the  gunners 
seemed  over  long  in  getting  down  to  work,  Mau- 
rice gazed  around  impatiently.  The  blood  rushed 
into  his  heart.  For  this  is  what  he  saw:  the  in- 
fantry leaning  indolently  on  their  guns,  their  offi- 
cers snipping  the  grasses  with  their  swords;  the 
cuirassiers  hidden  in  the  bulk  of  the  native  cav- 
alry; artillerymen  seated  carelessly  on  the  caissons, 
and  the  gunners  smoking  and  leaning  against  the 
guns.  All  action  was  gone,  as  if  by  magic;  noth- 
ing but  a  strange  tableau  remained!  Moreover, 
a  troop  of  native  cavalry,  which,  for  no  apparent 
reason,  had  not  joined  the  main  body,  had  closed 
in  on  the  general  staff.  Appalled  by  a  sudden 
thought,  Maurice  touched  the  prince,  who  lowered 
his  glasses  and  turned  his  head.  Bewilderment 
widened  his  eyes,  and  the  flush  on  his  cheeks  died 
away.  He,  too,  saw. 

"Devil's  name !"  the  Marshal  burst  forth,  "why 
don't  the  blockheads  shoot?  The  enemy — "  He 
stopped,  his  chin  fell,  for,  as  he  turned,  a  single 
glance  explained  all  to  him.  The  red  on  his  face 
changed  into  a  sickly  purple,  and  the  glasses 
slipped  from  his  hands  and  broke  into  pieces  on 
the  stony  ground. 

"Marshal,"  began  General  Kronau,  "I  respect 
your  age  and  valiant  services.  That  is  why  we 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         393 

have  come  thirteen  miles.  You  may  keep  your 
sword,  and  also  Monsieur  the  prince.  For  the 
present  you  are  prisoners." 

For  a  moment  the  Marshal  was  stupefied.  His 
secret  fears  had  been  realized.  Suddenly  a  hoarse 
oath  issued  from  his  lips,  he  dragged  his  saber 
from  the  scabbard,  raised  it  and  made  a  terrible 
sweep  at  the  General.  But  the  stroke  fell  on  a 
dozen  intervening  blades,  and  the  Marshal's  arms 
were  held  and  forced  to  his  sides. 

"Kronau  .  .  .  you?"  he  roared.  "Betrayed! 
You  despicable  coward  and  traitor!  You — "  .  . 
But  speech  forsook  him,  and  he  would  have  fallen 
from  the  horse  but  for  those  who  held  his  arms. 

"Traitor?"  echoed  Kronau,  coolly.  "To  what 
and  to  whom?  I  am  serving  my  true  and  legiti- 
mate sovereign.  I  am  also  serving  humanity,  since 
this  battle  is  to  be  bloodless.  It  is  you  who  are 
the  traitor.  You  swore  allegiance  to  the  duke, 
and  that  allegiance  is  the  inheritance  of  the  daugh- 
ter. How  have  you  kept  your  oath?" 

But  the  Marshal  was  incapable  of  answer.  One 
looking  at  him  would  have  said  that  he  was 
suffering  from  a  stroke  of  apoplexy. 

"I  admit,"  went  on  the  General,  not  wholly  un- 
embarrassed, "that  the  part  I  play  is  not  an  agree- 
able one  to  me,  but  it  is  preferable  to  the  needless 
loss  of  human  life.  The  duchess  was  to  have  en- 
tered Bleiberg  at  night,  to  save  us  this  present  dis- 
honor, if  you  persist  in  calling  it  such.  But  his 
Highness,  who  is  young,  and  Monseigneur  the 
archbiship,  who  dreams  of  Richelieu,  made  it  im- 
possible. No  harm  is  intended  to  any  one." 


394         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

The  prince,  white  and  shivering  as  if  with  ague, 
broke  his  sword  on  the  pommel  of  the  saddle  and 
hurled  the  pieces  at  Kronau,  who  permitted  them 
to  strike  him. 

"God's  witness,"  the  prince  cried  furiously,  "but 
3'our  victory  shall  be  short-lived.  I  have  an  army, 
trusty  to  the  last  sword,  and  you  shall  feel  the 
length  of  its  arm  within  forty-eight  hours." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Kronau,  shrugging. 

"It  is  already  on  the  way." 

"Your  Highness  forgets  that  Carnavia  belongs 
to  the  confederation,  and  that  the  king,  your  father, 
dare  not  send  you  troops  without  the  consent  of 
the  emperor,  which,  believe  me,  will  never  be 
given;"  and  he  urged  his  horse  down  the  slope. 

The  army  of  the  duchess  had  now  gained  the 
open.  The  advance  was  composed  of  cavalry, 
which  came  along  the  road  with  wings  on  either 
side,  and  with  great  dash  and  splendor. 

A  noisy  cheer  arose,  to  be  faintly  echoed  by  the 
oncoming  avalanche  of  white  horses  and  dazzling 
blue  uniforms. 

This  was  the  incident  upon  which  Madame  the 
duchess  relied. 

With  rage  and  chagrin  in  his  heart,  Maurice  viewed 
the  scene.  The  knell  of  the  Osians  had  been  struck. 
He  gazed  forlornly  at  the  cuirassiers;  they  at  least 
had  come  to  sell  their  lives  honestly  for  their  bread. 
Presently  the  two  armies  came  together;  all  was  con- 
fusion and  cheers.  Kronau  approached  the  leader 
of  the  cavalry.  .  .  .  Maurice  was  greatly  dis- 
turbed. He  leaned  toward  the  prince. 


THE    PUPPET    CROWN         395 

<rYour  Highness,"  he  whispered,  "I  am  going  to 
make  a  dash  for  the  road." 

"Yes,  yes!"  replied  the  prince,  intuitively.  "My 
God,  yes !  Warn  her  to  fly,  so  that  she  will  not  be 
compelled  to  witness  this  cursed  woman's  triumph. 
Save  her  that  humiliation.  Go,  and  God  be  with  you, 
my  friend!  We  are  all  dishonored.  The  Marshal 
looks  as  if  he  were  dying." 

The  native  troopers,  in  their  eagerness  to  witness 
the  meeting  between  Kronau  and  the  former  Colonel 
of  the  cuirassiers,  had  pushed  forward.  A  dozen, 
however,  had  hemmed  in  the  Marshal,  the  prince  and 
Maurice.  But  these  were  standing  in  their  stirrups. 
Maurice  gradually  brought  his  horse  about  so  that 
presently  he  was  facing  north.  Directly  in  front  of 
him  was  an  opening.  He  grasped  his  saber  firmly 
and  pressed  the  spurs.  Quick  as  he  was,  two  sabers 
barred  his  way,  but  he  beat  them  aside,  went  diago- 
nally down  the  hill,  over  the  stone  wall  and  into  the 
road. 

While  he  was  maneuvering  for  this  dash,  one  man 
had  been  eying  him  with  satisfaction.  As  the  black 
horse  suddenly  sank  from  view  behind  the  hill,  Beau- 
vais,  to  the  astonishment  of  Kronau,  drew  his  revol- 
ver. 

"There  goes  a  man,"  he  cried,  "who  must  not 
escape.  He  is  so  valuable  that  I  shall  permit (no  one 
but  myself  to  bring  him  back !"  And  the  splendid 
white  animal  under  him  bounded  up  the  hill  and 
down  the  other  side. 

Beauvais  had  a  well-defined  purpose  in  following 
ulone.  He  was  determined  that  one  Maurice  Carewe 


396         THE    PUPPET    CKOWN 

should  not  bother  anyone  hereafter;  he  knew  too 
much. 

The  white  horse  and  the  black  faded  away  in  the 
blur  of  rising  dust. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


For  a  long  time  Maurice  rode  with  his  head 
almost  touching  the  coal  black  mane  of  his  gal- 
lant Mecklenberg.  Twice  he  glanced  back  to 
see  -who  followed,  but  the  volume  of  dust  which 
rolled  after  him  obscured  all  behind.  He  could 
hear  the  far-off  hammer  of  hoofs,  but  this,  ming- 
ling with  the  noise  of  his  own  horse,  confused  him 
as  to  the  number  of  pursuers.  He  reasoned  that 
he  was  well  out  of  range,  for  there  came  no  re- 
port of  firearms.  The  road  presently  described 
a  semi-circle,  passing  through  a  meager  orchard. 
Once  beyond  this  he  turned  again  in  the  saddle. 

"Only  one;  that  is  not  so  bad  as  it  might  be. 
It  is  one  to  one."  But  a  second  glance  told  him 
who  this  solitary  pursuer  was.  "The  devil !"  he 
laughed — as  one  of  Tasso's  heroes  might  have 
laughed ! — "The  devil !  how  that  man  loves  me !" 
He  was  confident  that  the  white  horse  would  never 
overtake  the  black. 

On  they  flew,  pursued  and  pursuer.     At  length 
Maurice  bit  his  lip  and  frowned.     The  white  horse 
was    growing    larger;    the    distance    between    was 
lessening,  slowly  but  certainly. 
397 


398         THE     PUPPET     GROWN 

"Good  boy!"  he  said  encouragingly  to  the  Meck- 
lenberg.  "Good  boy!" 

Deserted  farm  houses  swept  past;  hills  rose  and 
vanished,  but  still  the  white  horse  crept  up,  up, 
up.  The  distance  ere  another  half  mile  had  gone 
had  diminished  to  four  hundred  yards;  from  four 
hundred  it  fell  to  three  hundred,  from  three  hun- 
dred to  two  hundred.  The  Mecklenburg  was  doing 
glorious  work,  but  the  marvelous  stride  of  the  ani- 
mal in  the  rear  was  matchless.  Suddenly  Mau- 
rice saw  a  tuft  of  the  red  plume  on  his  helmet 
spring  out  ahead  of  him  and  sail  away,  and  a 
second  later  came  the  report.  One,  he  counted; 
four  more  were  to  follow.  Next  a  stream  of  fire 
passed  along  his  cheek,  and  something  warm 
trickled  down  the  side  of  his  neck.  Two,  he 
counted,  his  face  now  pale  and  set.  The  third 
knocked  his  scabbard  into  the  air. 

Quickly  he  shifted  his  saber  to  the  left,  dropped 
the  reins  and  drew  his  own  revolver.  He  under- 
stood. He  was  not  to  be  taken  prisoner.  Beauvais 
intended  to  kill  him  offhand.  Only  the  dead  keep 
secrets.  Maurice  flung  about  and  fired  three  con- 
secutive times.  The  white  horse  reared,  and  the 
shako  of  his  master  fell  into  the  dust,  but  there  was 
no  other  result.  As  Maurice  pressed  the  trigger  for 
the  fourth  time  the  revolver  was  violently 
wrenched  from  his  hand,  and  a  thousand  needles 
seemed  to  be  quivering  in  the  flesh  of  his  arm 
and  hand. 

"My  God,  what  a  shot !"  he  murmured.  "I 
am  lost!" 

Simultaneous  with  the  fifth  and  last  shot  came 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         399 

a  sensation  somewhat  like  that  caused  by  a 
sound  blow  in  the  middle  of  the  back.  Strange, 
but  he  felt  no  pain,  neither  was  there  an  accom- 
panying numbness.  Then  he  remembered  his  cui- 
rass, which  was  of  steel  an  eighth  of  an  inch  thick. 
It  had  saved  his  life.  The  needles  began  to  leave 
his  right  hand  and  arm,  and  he  knew  that  he  had 
received  no  injury  other  than  a  shock.  He  passed 
the  saber  back  to  his  right  hand.  He  had  no 
difficulty  in  holding  it.  Gradually  his  grip  grew 
strong  and  steady. 

Beauvais  was  now  within  twenty  yards  of  Mau- 
rice. Had  he  been  less  eager  and  held  his  fire 
up  to  this  point,  Maurice  had  been  a  dead  man. 
The  white  horse  gained  every  moment.  A  dull 
fury  grew  into  life  in  Maurice's  heart.  Instead 
of  continuing  the  race,  he  brought  the  Mecklen- 
berg  to  his  haunches  and  wheeled.  He  made 
straight  for  Beauvais,  who  was  surprised  at  this 
change  of  tactics.  In  the  rush  they  passed  each 
other  and  the  steel  hummed  spitefully  through 
space.  Both  wheeled  again. 

"Your  life  or  mine !"  snarled  Maurice.  His 
coolness,  however,  was  proportionate  to  his  rage. 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life  the  lust  to  kill 
seized  him. 

"It  shall  be  yours,  damn  you!"  replied  Beau- 
vais. 

"The  Austrian  ambassador  has  your  history; 
kill  me  or  not,  you  are  lost."  Maurice  made  a  sweep 
at  his  enemy's  head  and  missed. 

Beauvais  replied  in  kind,  and  it  flashed  vicious- 
ly off  the  point  of  Maurice's  saber.  He  had  only 


400 


hit  life  to  lose,  but  it  had  suddenly  become  precious 
to  him;  Beauvais  had  not  only  his  life,  but  all  that 
made  life  worth  living.  His  onslaught  was  terrible. 
Besides,  he  was  fighting  against  odds;  he  wore  no 
steel  protector.  Maurice  wore  his  only  a  moment 
longer.  A  cut  in  the  side  severed  the  lacings,  and 
the  sagging  of  the  cuirass  greatly  handicapped 
him.  He  pressed  the  spurs  and  dashed  away, 
while  Beauvais  cursed  him  for  a  cowardly  cur. 
Maurice,  by  this  maneuver,  gained  sufficient  time 
to  rid  himself  of  the  cumbersome  steel.  What  he 
lost  in  protection,  he  gained  in  lightness  and  free- 
dom. Shortly  Beauvais  was  at  him  again.  The 
time  for  banter  had  passed;  they  fought  grimly 
and  silently.  The  end  for  one  was  death.  Beau- 
vais knew  that  if  his  antagonist  escaped  this  time 
the  life  he  longed  for,  the  power  and  honor  it  prom- 
ised, would  never  be  his.  On  his  side,  Maurice 
was  equally  determined  to  live. 

The  horses  plunged  and  snorted,  reared  and 
swayed  and  bit.  Sometimes  they  carried  their 
masters  several  yards  apart,  only  to  come  smash- 
ing together  again. 

The  sun  was  going  down,  and  a  clear,  white 
light  prevailed.  Afar  in  the  field  a  herd  was 
grazing,  but  no  one  would  call  them  to  the 
sheds.  Master  and  mistress  had  long  since  taken 
flight. 

The  due?  went  on.  Maurice  was  growing  tired. 
By  and  by  he  began  to  rely  solely  on  the  defense. 
When  they  were  close,  Beauvais  played  for  the 
point;  the  moment  the  space  widened  he  took  to 
the  edge.  He  saw  what  Maurice  felt — the  weak- 


THE    PtJPPET     CROWN         401 

.erring,  and  he  indulged  in  a  cruel  smile.  They 
came  close;  he  made  as  though  to  give  the  point. 
Maurice,  thinking  to  anticipate,  reached.  Quick 
as  light  Beauvais  raised  his  blade  and  brought  it 
down  with  crushing  force,  standing  the  while  in 
the  stirrups.  The  blow  missed  Maurice's  head  by 
an  inch,  but  it  sank  so  deeply  in  his  left  shoulder 
that  it  splintered  the  collar  bone  and  stopped  with- 
in a  hair  of  the  great  artery  that  runs  under- 
neath. 

The  world  turned  red,  then  black.  When 
it  grew  light  again  Maurice  beheld  the  dripping 
blade  swinging  aloft  again.  Suddenly  the  black 
horse  snapped  at  the  white,  which  veered.  The 
stroke  which  would  have  split  Maurice's  skull  in 
twain,  fell  on  the  rear  of  the  saddle,  and  the  blade 
was  so  firmly  imbedded  in  the  wooden  molding 
that  Beauvais  could  not  withdraw  it  at  once. 
Blinded  by  pain  as  he  was,  and  fainting,  yet  Mau- 
rice saw  his  chance.  He  thrust  with  all  his  re- 
maining strength  at  the  brown  throat  so  near  him. 
And  the  blade  went  true.  The  other's  body  stif- 
fened, his  head  flew  back,  his  eyes  started;  he 
clutched  wildly  at  the  steel,  but  his  hands  had  not 
the  power  to  reach  it.  A  bloody  foam  gushed  be- 
tween his  lips;  his  mouth  opened;  he  swayed,  and 
finally  tumbled  into  the  road — dead. 

As  Maurice  gazed  down  at  him,  between  the  dead 
eyes  and  his  own  there  passed  a  vision  of  a  dark- 
skinned  girl,  who,  if  still  living,  dwelt  in  a  lonely 
convent,  thousands  of  miles  away. 

Maurice  was  sensible  of  but  little  pain;  a  pleas- 


402         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

ant  numbness  began  to  steal  over  him.  His  sleeve 
was  soaked,  his  left  hand  was  red,  and  the  blood 
dripped  from  his  fingers  and  made  round  black 
spots  in  the  dust  of  the  road.  A  circle  of  this 
blackness  was  widening  about  the  head  of  the 
fallen  man.  Maurice  watched  it,  fascinated.  .  . 
He  was  dead,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  a  prince 
did  not  matter. 

It  seemed  to  Maurice  that  his  own  body 
was  transforming  into  lead,  and  he  vaguely 
wondered  how  the  horse  could  bear  up  such 
a  weight.  He  was  sleepy,  too.  Dimly  it  came 
to  him  that  he  also  must  be  dying.  .  .  .  No; 
he  would  not  die  there,  beside  this  man.  He 
still  gripped  his  saber.  Indeed,  his  hand  was  as 
if  soldered  to  the  wire  and  leather  windings  on 
the  hilt.  Mollendorf  had  said  that  Beauvais  was 
invincible.  .  .  .  Beauvais  was  dead.  Was  he, 
too,  dying?  .  .  .  No;  he  would  not  die  there. 
The  Mecklenberg  started  forward  at  a  walk;  a 
spur  had  touched  him. 

"No !"  Maurice  cried,  throwing  off  the  drowsi- 
ness. "My  God,  I  will  not  die  here !  .  .  .  Go, 
boy!"  The  Mecklenberg  set  off,  loping  easily. 

His  recent  enemy,  the  great  white  horse,  stood 
motionless  in  the  center  of  the  road,  and  followed 
him  with  large,  inquiring  eyes.  He  turned 
and  looked  at  the  silent  huddled  mass  in  the  dust 
at  his  feet,  and  whinneyed.  But  he  did  not  move; 
a  foot  still  remained  in  the  stirrup. 

Soon  Maurice  remembered  an  episode  of  his 
school  days,  when,  in  the  spirit  of  precocious  re- 
search, he  had  applied  carbolic  acid  to  his  arm. 


THE     PUTPET     CKOWN         403 

It  occurred  to  him  that  he  was  now  being  bathed 
in  that  burning  fluid.  He  was  recovering  from 
the  shock.  With  returning  sense  came  the  in- 
crease of  pain,  pain  so  tormenting  and  exquisite 
that  sobs  rose  in  his  throat  and  choked  him.  Per- 
spiration matted  his  hair;  every  breath  he  took 
was  a  knife  thrust,  and  the  rise  and  fall  of  the 
horse,  gentle  as  it  was,  caused  the  earth  to  reel 
and  careen  heavenward. 

Bleiberg;  he  was  to  reach  Bleiberg.  He  repeated 
this  thought  over  and  over.  Bleiberg,  to  warn  her. 
Why  should  he  go  to  Bleiberg  to  warn  her?  What 
was  he  doing  here,  he  who  loved  life  so  well  ?  What 
had  led  him  into  this?  .  .  .  There  had  been 
a  battle,  but  neither  army  had  been  cognizant  of 
it.  He  endeavored  to  move  his  injured  arm,  and 
found  it  bereft  of  locomotion.  The  tendons  had 
been  cut.  And  he  could  not  loosen  his  grip  on  the 
saber  which  he  held  in  his  right  hand.  The 
bridle  rein  swung  from  side  to  side. 

Rivulets  of  fire  began  to  run  up  and  down  his 
side;  the  cords  in  his  neck  were  stiffening.  Still 
the  blood  went  drip,  drip,  drip,  into  the  dust. 
Would  he  reach  Bleiberg,  or  would  he  die  on  the 
way  ?  God  !  for  a,  drink  of  water,  cold  water.  He 
set  his  teeth  in  his  lips  to  neutralize  the  pain  in  his 
arm  and  shoulder.  His  lips  were  numb,  and  the 
pressure  of  his  teeth  was  as  nothing.  From  one 
moment  to  the  next  he  expected  to  drop  from  the 
saddle,  but  somehow  he  hung  on;  the  spark  of  life 
was  tenacious.  The  saber  dangled  on  one  side,  the 
scabbard  on  the  other.  The  blood,  drying  in 
places,  drew  the  skin  as  tight  a«  a  drumhead. 


404         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

On,  on,  on;  up  long  inclines,  down  the  steeps; 
he  lost  all  track  of  time,  and  the  darkness  thickened 
and  the  stars  stood  out  more  clearly.  .  .  .  He 
could  look  back  on  a  clean  life;  true,  there  were 
some  small  stains,  but  these  were  human.  Strange 
fancies  jostled  one  another;  faces  long  forgot 
reappeared;  scenes  from  boyhood  rose  before  him. 
Home!  He  had  none,  save  that  which  was  the 
length  and  breadth  of  his  native  land.  On,  on, 
on;  the  low  snuffle  of  the  horse  sometimes  aroused 
him  from  the  stupor. 

"Why  you  do  this  I  do  not  know,  nor  shall  I 
ask.  Monsieur,  my  prayers  go  with  you !"  .  .  . 
She  had  said  that  to  him,  and  had  given  him  her 
hand  to  kiss;  a  princess,  one  of  the  chosen  and  the 
few.  To  live  long  enough  to  see  her  again;  a  final 
service — and  adieu!  .  .  .  Ah,  but  it  had  been 
a  good  fight,  a  good  fight.  Xo  fine  phrases;  noth- 
ing but  the  lust  for  blood;  a  life  for  a  life;  a 
game  in  which  the  winner  was  also  like  to  lose. 
A  gray  patch  in  the  white  of  the  road  attracted  his 
attention — a  bridge. 

"Water!"  he  murmured. 

Mottled  with  the  silver  of  the  stars,  it  ran  along 
through  the  fields;  a  brook,  shallow  and  narrow, 
but  water.  The  perfume  of  the  grasses  was  sweet; 
the  horse  sniffed  joyously.  He  stopped  of  his  own 
accord.  Maurice  had  strength  enough  to  dis- 
mount. The  saber  slid  from  his  grasp.  He  stag- 
gered down  to  the  water.  In  kneeling  a  faintne>> 
passed  over  him;  he  rolled  into  the  brook  and  lay 
there  until  the  water,  almost  clogging  his  throat 
and  nostrils,  revived  him.  He  crawled  to  his  knees, 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         405 

coughing  and  choking.  The  contact  of  the  cold 
with  the  burning  wound  caused  a  delightful  sen- 
sation. 

"Water!"  he  said,  and  plashed  it  in  his  face. 

The  horse  had  come  down  from  the  road.  He 
had  not  waited  for  an  invitation.  He  drank  thirst- 
ily at  the  side  of  his  master.  The  water  gurgled 
in  his  long,  black  throat. 

"Good  boy!"  Maurice  called,  and  dashed  water 
against  his  shoulder.  "Good  boy !"  he  remem- 
bered that  the  horse  in  biting  the  white  one  had 
Baved  his  life. 

Each  handful  of  the  cold  liquid  caused  him  to 
gasp;  but  soon  the  fever  and  fire  died  out,  leaving 
only  the  duller  pain.  When  he  rose  from  his 
knees,  however,  he  found  that  the  world  had  not 
yet  ceased  its  wild  reeling.  He  stooped  to  regain 
his  saber,  and  fell  into  the  dust;  though  to  him  it 
was  not  he  who  fell,  but  the  earth  which  rose.  He 
struggled  to  his  feet,  leaned  panting  on  his 
saber,  and  tried  to  steady  himself.  He  laughed 
hysterically.  He  had  dismounted,  but  he  knew 
that  he  could  never  climb  to  the  back  of  the  horse; 
and  Bleiberg  might  yet  be  miles  away.  To  walk 
the  distance;  was  it  possible?  To  reach  Bleiberg 
before  Madame.  .  .  .  Madame  the  duchess 
and  her  army!  He  laughed  again,  but  there  was 
a  wild  strain  in  his  laughter.  Ah,  God!  what  a 
farce  it  was!  One  man  dead  and  another  dying; 
the  beginning  and  the  end  of  the  war.  The  comic 
opera!  La  Grande  Duchesse!  And  the  fool  of 
an  Englishman  was  playing  Fritz!  He  started 


406 


down    the    road,    his    body    slouched    forward,    the 
saber  trailing  in  the   dust.     .     .     . 

"  Void  le  sabre  de  mon  p&re!" 

The  hand  of  madness  had  touched  him.  The 
Mecklenberg  followed  at  his  heels  as  a  dog  would 
have  followed  his  master. 

Less  than  a  mile  away  a  yellow  haze  wavered 
in  the  sky.  It  was  the  reflection  of  the  city  lights. 

Maurice  passed  under  the  town  gates,  the  wild 
song  on  his  lips,  his  eyes  bloodshot,  his  hair  dank 
about  his  brow,  conscious  of  nothing  but  the  mad, 
rollicking  rhythm.  Nobody  molested  him;  those 
he  met  gave  him  the  full  width  of  the  road.  A 
strange  picture  they  presented,  the  man  and  the 
troop  horse.  Some  one  recognized  the  trappings 
of  the  horse;  half  an  hour  later  it  was  known 
throughout  the  city  that  the  king's  army  had  been 
defeated  and  that  Madame  was  approaching.  Stu- 
dents began  their  depredations.  They  built  bon- 
fires. They  raided  the  office  of  the  official  paper, 
and  destroyed  the  presses  and  type.  Later  they 
marched  around  the  Hohenstaufenplatz,  yelling 
and  singing. 

Once  a  gendarme  tried  to  stop  Maurice  and  in- 
quire into  his  business.  The  inquisition  was  ab- 
ruptly ended  by  a  cut  from  the  madman's  sword. 
The  gendarme  took  to  his  legs.  Maurice  continued, 
and  the  Mecklenberg  tramped  on  after  him.  Into 
the  Konigstrasse  they  turned.  At  this  time,  before 
the  news  was  known,  the  street  was  deserted.  Up 
the  center  of  it  the  man  went,  his  saber  scraping 
along  the  asphalt,  the  horse  always  following. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         407 

Void  le  sabre  de  mon  p£re! 

Tu  vas  le  mettre  d,  ton  c6te! 
Apres  la  victoire,  j'espZre 

Te  revoir  en  bonne  sant£ 

The  street  lamps  swayed;  sometimes  a  dozen 
revolved  on  one  post,  and  Maurice  would  stop  long 
enough  to  laugh.  How  easy  it  was  to  walk !  All 
he  had  to  do  was  to  lift  a  foot,  and  the  pavement 
would  rise  to  meet  it.  The  moon,  standing  high 
behind  him,  cast  a  long,  weird  shadow,  and  he 
staggered  after  it  and  cut  at  it  with  the  saber. 
It  was  only  when  he  saw  the  lights  of  the  royal 
palace  and  the  great  globes  on  the  gate  posts  that 
sanity  returned.  This  sanity  was  of  short  dura- 
tion. 

"To  the  palace!"  he  cried;  "to  the  palace!  To 
warn  her  I"  And  he  stumbled  against  the  gates, 
still  calling,  "To  the  palace!  To  the  palace!" 

The  cuirassiers  who  had  been  left  behind  to  pro- 
tect the  inmates  of  the  palace,  were  first  aroused 
by  the  yelling  and  singing  of  the  students.  They 
rushed  out  of  the  guard  room  and  came  running 
to  the  gates,  which  they  opened.  The  body  of  a 
man  rolled  inside.  They  stopped  and  examined 
him;  the  uniform  was  theirs.  The  face  they 
looked  into  was  that  of  the  handsome  young  for- 
eigner who,  that  day,  had  gone  forth  from  the 
city,  a  gay  and  gallant  figure,  who  sat  his  horse 
so  well  that  he  earned  their  admiration.  What 
could  this  mean?  And  where  were  the  others? 
Had  there  been  a  desperate  battle? 

"Run  back  to  the  guard  room,  one  of  you,  and 
fetch  some  brandy.  He  lives."  And  Lieutenant 


408         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

Scharfenstein  took  his  hand  from  the  insensibL, 
man's  heart.  Pulsation  was  there,  but  weak  and 
intermittent.  "Sergeant,  take  ten  men  and  clear  the 
square.  If  they  refuse  to  leave,  kill !  Madame  is 
not  yet  queen  by  any  means." 

The  men  scattered.  One  soon  returned  with 
the  brandy.  Scharfenstein  moistened  the  wound- 
ed man's  lips  and  placed  his  palm  under  the  nose. 
Shortly  Maurice  opened  his  eyes,  his  half-delirious 
eyes. 

"To  the  palace!"  he  said,  "to  the  palace— Ah!" 
He  saw  the  faces  staring  down  at  him.  He  strug- 
gled. Instinctively  they  all  stood  back.  What 
seemed  incredible  to  them,  he  got  to  his  knees, 
from  his  knees  to  his  feet,  and  propped  himself 
against  a  gate  post.  "Your  life  or  mine !"  he 
cried.  "Come  on ;  a  man  can  die  but  once !"  He 
lunged,  and  again  they  retreated.  He  laughed. 
"It  was  a  good  fight !"  He  reeled  off  toward  the 
palace  steps.  They  did  not  hinder  him,  but  they 
followed,  expecting  each  moment  to  see  him  fall. 
But  he  fell  not.  One  by  one  he  mounted  the  steps, 
steadying  himself  with  the  saber.  He  gained  the 
landing,  once  more  steadied  himself,  and  vanished 
into  the  palace. 

"He  is  out  of  his  head!"  cried  Scharfenstein, 
rushing  up  the  steps.  "God  knows  what  has  hap- 
pened !" 

He  was  in  time  to  see  Maurice  lurch  into  the 
arms  of  Captain  von  Mitter,  who  had  barred  the 
way  to  the  private  apartments. 

"Carewe!     .     .     .     What  has  happened?     God's 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         409 

name,  you  are  soaked  in  blood!"  Von  Mitter  held 
Maurice  at  arm's  length.  "A  battle?" 

"Aye,  a  battle;  one  man  is  dead  and  another 
soon  will  be !"  A  transient  lucidity  beamed  in 
Maurice's  eyes.  "We  were  betrayed  by  the  native 
troops;  they  ran  to  meet  Madame.  .  .  .  Mar- 
shal Kampf,  Prince  Frederick,  and  the  cuirassiers 

are  prisoners I  escaped.  Beauvais 

gave  chase.  .  .  .  Wanted  to  kill  me.  .  .  . 
He  gave  me  this.  I  ran  him  through  the  throat. 
.  .  .  Knew  him  in  South  America.  .  .  . 
He's  dead !  Inform  the  archbishop  and  her  High- 
ness that  Madame  is  ncaring  the  city.  The  king — " 

"Hush !"  said  von  Mitter,  with  a  finger  on  his 
lip;  "hush!  The  king  died  at  six  o'clock.  God 
rest  his  soul !"  He  crossed  himself.  "A  dis- 
graceful day !  Curse  the  scheming  woman,  could 
she  not  let  us  bury  him  in  peace?  Prince  Fred- 
erick's father  refused  to  send  us  aid." 

"I  am  dying,"  said  Maurice  with  a  sob.  "Let 
me  lie  down  somewhere;  if  I  fall  I  am  a  dead 
man."  After  a  pause:  "Take  me  into  the  throne 
room.  I  shall  last  till  Madame  comes.  Let  her  find 
me  there.  .  .  .  The  brandy !" 

Scharfenstein  held  the  flask  to  the  sufferer's 
lips. 

"The  throne  room?"  repeated  von  Mitter,  sur- 
prised at  this  strange  request.  "Well,  why  not? 
For  what  is  a  throne  when  there  is  no  king  to  sit 
on  it?  You  will  not  die,  my  friend,  though  the 
cut  is  a  nasty  one.  What  is  an  arm?  Life  is 
worth  a  thousand  of  them !  Quick !  help  me  with 


410         THE     PUPPET     CROWX 

him,  Max  I"  for  Maurice  was  reaching  blindly 
toward  him. 

The  three  troopers  who  had  followed  Scharfen- 
stein  came  up,  and  the  five  of  them  managed  to 
carry  Maurice  into  the  throne  room,  and  deposit 
him  on  the  cushions  at  the  foot  of  the  dais.  There 
they  left  him. 

"Bad !"  said  von  Mitter,  as  he  came  limping  out 
into  the  corridor.  "And  he  made  such  a  brave 
show  when  he  left  here  this  afternoon.  I  have 
grown  to  love  the  fellow.  A  gallant  man.  I 
knew  that  the  native  troops  were  up  to  something. 
So  did  the  Colonel.  Ach !  I  would  give  a  year 
of  my  life  to  have  seen  him  and  Beauvais.  To 
kill  Beauvais,  the  best  saber  in  the  kingdom — it 
must  have  been  a  fight  worthy  of  the  legends.  A 
bad  day !  They  will  laugh  at  us.  But,  patience, 
the  archbishop  has  something  to  say  before  the 
curtain  falls.  Poor  young  man !  He  will  lose 
his  arm,  if  not  his  life/' 

"But  how  comes  he  into  all  this?"  asked  Scharf- 
enstein,  perplexedly. 

"It  is  not  for  me  or  you  to  question,  Max,"  said 
von  Mitter,  looking  down.  He  had  his  own  opin- 
ion, but  he  was  not  minded  to  disclose  it. 

''What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Perform  my  duty  until  the  end,"  sourly.  "Go 
you  and  help  against  the  students,  who  have  not 
manliness  enough  even  to  respect  the  dead.  The 
cowardly  servants  are  all  gone,  save  the  king's 
valet.  There  are  only  seven  of  us  in  all.  I  will 
seek  the  king's  physician;  the  dead  are  dead,  so 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         411 

let  us  concern  ourselves  with  the  living;"  and  he 
limped  off  toward  the  private  apartments. 

Scharfenstein  hurried  away  to  the  square. 

In  the  royal  bedchamber  a  girl  murmured  over 
a  cold  hand.  "God  pity  me;  I  am  all,  all  alone!'' 

The  archbishop  was  kneeling  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed.  In  his  heart  was  the  bitterness  of  loss  and 
defeat.  His  dreams  of  greatness  for  this  clay !  The 
worldly  pomp  which  was  to  have  attended  it !  Life 
was  but  a  warm  breath  on  the  mirror  of  eternity; 
for  one  the  mirror  was  clear  again. 

The  square  soon  grew  quiet;  the  students  and 
the  cuirassiers  had  met  for  the  last  time.  In  the 
throne  room  shadows  and  silence  prevailed.  Mau- 
rice lay  upon  the  cushions,  the  hilt  of  the  saber 
still  in  his  hand.  Consciousness  had  returned,  a 
clear,  penetrating  consciousness.  At  the  foot  of 
the  throne,  he  thought,  and,  mayhap,  close  to  one 
not  visible  to  the  human  eye  f  What  a  checker- 
board he  had  moved  upon,  and  now  the  check- 
mate !  So  long  as  the  pain  did  not  diminish,  he 
was  content;  a  sudden  ease  was  what  he  dreaded. 
Life  was  struggling  to  retain  its  hold.  He 
did  not  wish  to  die;  he  was  young;  there  were 
long  years  to  come;  the  world  was  beautiful,  and 
to  love  was  the  glory  over  it  all.  He  wondered 
if  Beauvais  still  lay  in  the  road  where  he  had 
left  him.  Again  he  could  see  that  red  saber 
swinging  high;  and  he  shivered. 

Half  an  hour  passed,  then  canys  the  distant 
murmur  of  voices,  which  expanded  into  tumult. 
The  victorious  army,  the  brave  and  gallant  army, 
had  entered  the  city,  and  was  streaming  toward 


412         THE    PUPPET    CROWN 

the  palaces.  Huzzas  rose  amid  the  blaring  of 
bugles.  The  timorous  came  forth  and  added  to 
the  noise.  The  conquerors  trooped  into  the  palace, 
and  Madame  the  duchess  looked  with  shining  eyes 
at  the  throne  of  her  forefathers. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

WORMWOOD   AND   LEES 

Madame,  like  a  statue  of  expectancy,  riveted  her 
gaze-  on  the  throne.  Hers  at  last !  Her  dreams 
were  realized.  She  was  no  longer  a  duchess  by 
patent;  she  was  a  queen  by  right  of  inheritance; 
she  was  now  to  be  a  power  among  the  great.  The 
kingdom  of  her  forefathers  was  hers.  She  had 
reached  the  goal  without  bloodshed;  she  had  been 
patient,  and  this  was  her  reward.  The  blaze  of 
her  ambition  dimmed  all  other  stars.  Her  bosom 
heaved,  triumph  flashed  in  her  beautiful  eyes,  and 
a  smile  parted  her  lips.  Her  first  thought  had 
been  to  establish  headquarters  in  the  parlors  of 
the  Continental  Hotel,  and  from  there  to  summon 
the  archbishop,  as  a  conqueror  summons  the  chief  of 
the  vanquished.  But  no;  she  could  not  wait; 
above  all  things  she  desired  the  satisfaction  of  the 
eye.  The  throne  of  her  forefathers ! 

"Mine !"    she   murmured. 

Over  her  shoulders  peered  eager  faces,  in  which 
greed  and  pleasure  and  impassibility  were  written. 
One  face,  however,  had  on  it  the  dull  red  of  shame. 
Not  until  now  did  the  full  force  of  his  intended 
dishonesty  come  home  to  the  Englishman;  not  until 
413 


414         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

now  did  he  realize  the  complete  degradation  to 
which  his  uniform  had  lowered  him.  His  had 
been  the  hand  to  stay  this  misfortune,  and  he  had 
not  lifted  it.  This  king  had  been  his  father's 
friend;  and  he  had  taken  up  arms  against  him. 
0,  he  had  begun  life  badly ;  he  was  making  the 
end  still  more  dismal.  Would  this  woman  ever 
be  his?  Her  promises  were  not  worth  the  air  that 
had  carried  them  to  his  ear.  He,  the  consort  of 
a  queen?  A  cold  sweat  dampened  his  forehead. 
How  he  loved  her !  And  that  kiss.  .  .  .  Queen 
or  not,  he  would  not  be  her  dupe,  his  would  not 
bo  a  tame  surrender. 

From  the  Platz  and  the  Park,  where  the  two 
armies  had  bivouacked,  came  an  intermittent  cheer- 
ing. The  flames  of  bonfires  were  reflected  on  the 
windows,  throwing  out  in  dull,  yellow  relief  the 
faces  of  Madame  and  her  staff. 

Between  the  private  apartments  of  the  king  and 
the  throne  room  was  a  wide  sliding  door.  Sud- 
denly this  opened  and  closed.  With  his  back 
against  it,  a  pistol  in  one  hand  and  a  saber  in 
the  other,  stood  Captain  von  Mitter,  his  face  cold 
and  resolute.  All  eyes  were  instantly  directed 
toward  him. 

"Captain,"  said  Madame,  imperiously,  "summon 
to  me  Monseigneur  the  archbishop !" 

Her  command  fell  on  ears  of  stone.  Von 
Mitter  made  no  sign  that  he  heard  her. 

"Take  care,  Monsieur,"  she  warned;  "I  am 
mistress  here.  If  you  will  not  obey  me,  my  offi- 
cers will." 

"Madame,   I   acknowledge   no   mistress   save   the 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         415 

daughter  of  the  king.  No  one  shall  pass  this 
door  to  announce  your  presence  to  Monseigneur." 

This  reply  was  greeted  with  sundry  noises,  such 
as  sabers  coming  from  scabbards,  clicking  of  pis- 
tol locks,  and  the  moving  of  feet.  Madame  put 
out  her  hand  suggestively,  and  the  noise  ceased. 
Von  Mitter  smiled  disdainfully,  but  did  not  stir. 

"I  warn  you,  Madame,"  he  said,  "that  this  is 
war.  I  accept  all  the  responsibilities  of  my  posi- 
tion. I  know  nothing  of  any  surrender  or  vic- 
tory. To  me  you  are  simply  an  enemy.  I  will  kill 
any  one  who  attempts  to  pass.  I  should  be  pleased 
if  General  Kronau  would  make  the  first  step  to 
question  my  sincerity." 

Kronau's  fingers  twitched  around  his  revolver, 
but  Madame  touched  his  arm.  She  could  read  faces. 
The  young  Captain  was  in  earnest.  She  would 
temporize. 

"Captain,  all  here  are  prisoners  of  war,"  she 
said.  "Do  not  forget  that  soon  there  will  be  bene- 
fits for  those  who  serve  me." 

He  laughed  rudely.  "I  ask  no  benefits  from 
your  hands,  Madame.  I  would  rather  stand  on 
the  corner  and  beg."  He  sent  an  insolent,  con- 
temptuous glance  at  Kronau,  who  could  not  sup- 
port it.  "And  now  that  you  have  gratified  your 
curiosity,  I  beg  you  to  withdraw  to  the  street. 
To-night  this  palace  is  a  tomb,  and  woe  to  those 
who  commit  sacrilege." 

"The  king?"  she  said,  struck  by  a  thought 
which  caused  a  red  spot  to  appear  on  each  cheek. 

"Is  dead.     Go  and   leave  us  in   peace." 

The  wine  which  had  tasted  so  sweet  was  full  of 


416         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

lees,  and  the  cup  wormwood.  Madame  looked 
down,  while  her  officers  moved  uneasily  and 
glanced  over  their  shoulders.  Kronau  brushed 
his  forehead,  to  find  it  wet.  Madame  regretted  the 
surrendering  to  the  impulse.  Her  haste  to  tri- 
umph was  lacking  both  in  dignity  and  judgment. 
She  had  given  the  king  so  little  place  in 
her  thoughts  that  the  shock  of  his  death  con- 
fused her.  And  there  was  something  in  the  calm, 
fearless  contempt  of  the  young  soldier  which  em- 
barrassed her. 

"In  that  case,  Captain,"  she  said,  her  voice  un- 
certain and  constrained,  "bid  Monseigneur  to  wait 
on  me  at  the  Continental." 

"Whenever  that  becomes  convenient,  Madame, 
Monseigneur  will  certainly  confer  with  you  and 
your  rascally  pack  of  officers."  He  longed  for 
some  one  to  spring  at  him ;  he  longed  to  strike  a 
blow  in  earnest. 

As  he  leaned  against  the  door  he  felt  it  move. 
He  stepped  aside.  The  door  rolled  back,  and  her 
Royal  Highness,  the  archbishop  and  the  chancellor 
passed  in.  The  princess's  eyes  were  like  dim  stars, 
but  her  fine  nostrils  palpitated,  and  her  mouth  was 
rigid  in  disdain.  The  chancellor  looked  haggard 
and  dispirited,  and  he  eyed  all  with  the  listless- 
ness  of  a  man  who  has  given  up  hope.  The  prel- 
ate's face  was  as  finely  drawn  as  an  ancient  cameo, 
and  as  immobile.  He  gazed  at  Madame  with  one 
of  those  looks  which  penetrate  like  acid;  and,  brave 
as  she  was,  she  found  it  insupportable.  There  was 
a  tableau  of  short  duration. 

"Madame,"    said    her    Royal    Highness,    with    a 


THE    PUPPET    CROWN         417 

noble  scorn,  "what  would  you  say  if  one  desecrat- 
ed your  father's  tomb  while  you  were  kneeling 
beside  it?  What  would  you  say?  In  yonder 
room  my  father  lies  dead,  and  your  presence  here, 
in  whatever  role,  is  an  insult.  Are  you,  indeed,  a 
woman?  Have  you  no  respect  for  death  and  sor- 
row? Was  the  bauble  so  precious  to  your  sight 
that  you  could  not  wait  till  the  last  rites  were 
paid  to  the  dead?  Is  your  heart  of  stone,  your 
mind  devoid  of  pity  and  of  conscience?  Are  you 
lacking  in  magnanimity,  which  is  the  disposition  of 
great  souls?  Ah,  Madame,  you  will  never  be  great, 
for  you  have  stooped  to  treachery  and  deceit.  You, 
a  princess !  You  have  purchased  with  glittering 
promises  that  which  -in  time  would  have  been  given 
to  you.  And  you  will  not  fulfill  these  promises,  for 
honesty  has  no  part  in  your  affairs.  Shame  on  you, 
Madame.  By  dishonorable  means  you  have  gained 
this  room.  By  dishonorable  means  you  destroyed 
all  those  props  on  which  my  father  leaned.  You 
knew  that  he  had  not  long  to  live.  Had  you  come 
to  me  as  a  woman;  had  you  opened  your  heart  to 
me  and  confided  your  desires — Ah,  Madame,  how 
gladly  would  I  have  listened.  Whatever  it  signifies 
to  you,  this  throne  is  nothing  to  me.  Had  you  come 
then — but,  no !  you  must  come  to  demand  your  rights 
when  I  am  defenseless.  You  must  come  with  a 
sword  when  there  is  none  to  defend.  Is  it  possible 
that  in  our  veins  there  runs  a  kindred  blood?  And 
yet,  Madame,  I  forgive  you.  Rule  here,  if  you  will ; 
but  remember,  between  you  and  your  crown  there 
will  always  be  the  shadow  of  disgrace.  Monsieur," 


418         THE    PUPPET     CKOWN 

turning  toward  Fitzgerald,  whose  shame  was  so  great 
that  it  engulfed  him,  "your  father  and  mine  were 
friends — I  forgive  you.  Now,  Madame,  I  pray  you, 
go,  and  leave  me  with  my  dead." 

The  girlhood  of  Princess  Alexia  was  gone  for- 
ever. 

To  Madame  this  rebuke  was  like  hot  iron  on 
the  flesh.  It  left  her  without  answer.  Her  proud 
spirit  writhed.  Before  those  innocent  eyes  her 
soul  lay  bare,  offering  to  the  gaze  an  ineffaceable 
scar.  For  the  first  time  she  saw  her  schemes  in 
their  true  light.  Had  any  served  her  unselfishly? 
Aye,  there  was  one.  And  strangely  enough,  the 
first  thought  which  formed  in  her  mind  when 
chaos  was  passed,  was  of  him. 

How  would  this  rebuke  affect  her  in  his  eyes? 
What  was  he  to  her  that  she  cared  for  his  respect, 
his  opinion,  good  or  bad?  What  was  the  mean- 
ing of  the  secret  dread?  How  she  hated  him  for  his 
honesty  to  her;  for  now  perforce  she  must  look  up 
to  him.  She  had  stepped  down  from  the  pinnacle 
of  her  pride  to  which  she  might  never  again  ascend. 
He  had  kissed  her.  How  she  hated  him !  And  yet 
.  .  .  Ah,  the  wine  was  flat,  tinctured  with  the 
bitterness  of  gall,  and  her  own  greed  had  forced 
the  cup  to  her  lips.  She  could  not  remain  silent 
before  this  girl;  she  must  reply;  her  shame  was 
too  deep  to  resolve  itself  into  silence. 

"Mademoiselle,"  she  said,  "I  beg  of  you  to  ac- 
cept my  sympathies;  but  the  fortunes  of  war — " 

"Ah,  Madame,"  interrupted  the  prelate,  lifting 
his  white,  attenuated  hand,  "we  will  discuss  the 
fortunes  of  war — later." 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         419 

Madame  choked  back  the  sudden  gust  of  rage. 
She  glanced  covertly  at  the  Englishman.  But  he, 
with  wide-astonished  eyes,  was  staring  at  the  foot 
of  the  throne,  from  which  gradually  rose  a  terri- 
ble figure,  covered  with  blood  and  caked  with  drying 
clay.  The  figure  leaned  heavily  on  the  hilt  of  a 
saber,  and  swayed  unsteadily.  He  drew  all  eyes. 

"Ha !"  he  said,  with  a  prolonged,  sardonic  in- 
tonation, "is  that  you,  Madame  the  duchess?  You 
are  talking  of  war  ?  What !  and  you,  my  lord  the 
Englishman  ?  Ha !  and  war  ?  Look  at  me, 
Madame;  I  have  been  in  a  battle,  the  only  one 
fought  to-day.  Look  at  me !  Here  is  the  mark 
of  that  friend  who  watched  over  your  interests. 
But  where  is  he?  Eh?  Where?  Did  you  pick 
him  up  on  the  way?  ....  He  is  dead.  For 
all  that  he  was  a  rascal,  he  died  like  a  man.  .  . 
.  .  as  presently  I  shall  die !  Princes  and  kings 
and  thrones;  the  one  die  and  the  other  crumble, 
but  truth  lives  on.  And  you,  Madame,  have 
learned  the  truth.  Shame  on  your  mean  and  lit- 
tle souls !  There  was  only  one  honest  man  among 
you,  and  you  dishonored  him.  The  Marshal 
.  .  .  I  do  not  see  him.  An  honest  man  dies 
but  once,  but  a  traitor  dies  a  thousand  deaths. 
Kronau  ....  is  that  your  name?  It  was 
an  honest  one  once.  And  the  paltry  ends  you 
gain!  ....  The  grand  duchess  of  Gerol- 
stein !  .  .  ".  .  What  a  comic  opera !  Not 
even  music  to  go  by !  Eh,  you, — you  Englishman, 
has  Madame  made  you  a  Lieutenant? — a  Cap- 
tain ? — a  General  ?  What  a  farce  !  Nobles,  you  ? 
I  laugh  at  you  all  for  a  pack  of  thieves,  who  are 


420         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

not  content  with  the  purse,  but  must  add  honor 
to  the  bag.  A  man  is  what  he  makes  himself. 
Medals  and  clothes,  medals  and  clothes;  that  is  the 
sum  of  your  nobility !"  He  laughed,  but  the  laugh- 
ter choked  in  his  throat,  and  he  staggered  a  few 
paces  away  from  the  throne. 

"Seize  him !"  cried  Madame. 

When  the  men  sprang  forward  to  execute  this 
command,  Fitzgerald  barred  the  way. 

"No,"  he  said  doggedly;  "you  shall  not  touch 
him." 

"Stand  aside,  Monsieur,"  said  Madame,  deter- 
mined to  vent  her  rage  on  some  one. 

"Madame,"  said  von  Mitter,  "I  will  shoot  down 
the  first  man  who  lays  a  hand  on  Monsieur  Ca- 
rewe." 

The  princess,  her  heart  beating  wildly  at  the 
sudden  knowledge  that  lay  written  on  the  innrr 
vision,  a  faintness  stealing  away  her  sight,  leaned 
back  against  the  prelate. 

"He  is  dying,"  she  whispered;  "he  is  dying 
for  me !" 

Maurice  was  now  in  the  grasp  of  the  final  delir- 
ium. "Come  on!"  he  cried;  "come  on!  I  will 
show  you  how  a  brave  man  can  die.  Come  on, 
Messieurs  Medals  and  Clothes !  Aye,  who  will  go 
out  with  me?"  He  raised  the  saber,  and  it  caught 
the  flickering  light  as  it  trailed  a  circle  above  his 
head.  He  stumbled  toward  them,  sweeping  the 
air  with  the  blade.  Suddenly  there  came  a  change. 
He  stopped.  The  wild  expression  faded  from  his 
face;  a  surprised  look  came  instead.  The  saber 
slipped  from  his  fingers  and  clanged  on  the  floor. 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         421 

He  turned  and  looked  at  the  princess,  and  that 
glance  conveyed  to  her  the  burden  of  his  love. 
"Mademoiselle  ....  His  knees  doubled, 

he  sank,  rolled  face  downward,  and  a  dark  stain 
appeared  and  widened  on  the  marble  floor. 

"Go,  Madame,"  said  the  prelate.  "This  palace 
is  indeed  a  tomb."  He  felt  the  princess  grow  limp 
on  his  arm.  "Go." 

"Maurice !"  cried  Fitzgerald,  springing  to  the 
side  of  the  fallen  man.  "My  God!  Maurice!" 


CHAPTEE   XXVIII 

INTO    THE    HANDS    OF    AUSTRIA 

Madame,  surrounded  by  her  staff  and  courtiers, 
sat  in  the  main  salon  of  the  Continental  Hotel, 
waiting  for  the  archbishop.  The  false,  self- 
seeking  ministers  of  Leopold's  reign  crowded 
around  her  to  pay  their  respects,  to  compliment  and 
to  flatter  her.  Already  they  saw  a  brilliant  court; 
already  they  were  speculating  on  their  appoint- 
ments. Offices  were  plenty;  new  embassies  were  to 
be  created,  old  embassies  to  be  filled  anew. 

Madame  listened  to  all  coldly.  There  was  a  canker 
in  her  heart,  and  no  one  who  saw  that  calm,  beau- 
tiful face  of  hers  dreamed  how  deeply  the  canker 
was  eating.  There  were  two  men  who  held  aloof 
from  compliments  and  flattery.  On  the  face  of 
one  rested  a  moody  scowl;  on  the  other,  agony  and 
remorse.  These  two  men  were  Colonel  Mollen- 
dorf  and  Lord  Fitzgerald.  The  same  thought  oc- 
cupied each  mind;  the  scene  in  the  throne  room. 

Presently  an  orderly  announced:  "Monseigneur 
the  archbishop." 

Madame  arose,  and  all  looked  expectantly 
toward  the  door. 

The  old  prelate  entered,  his  head  high  and  his 
422 


THE    PUPPET     CKOWN         423 

step  firm.  He  appeared  to  see  no  one  but  Ma- 
dame. But  this  time  she  met  his  glance  without  a 
tremor. 

"Monseigneur,"  she  began,  "I  have  come  into 
my  own  at  last.  But  for  you  and  your  ambitious 
schemes,  all  this  would  not  have  come  to  pass. 
You  robbed  my  father  of  his  throne  and  set  your 
puppet  there  instead.  By  trickery  my  father  was 
robbed  of  his  lawful  inheritance.  By  trickery  I 
was  compelled  to  regain  it.  However,  I  do  not 
wish  to  make  an  enemy  of  you,  Monseigneur.  I 
have  here  two  letters.  They  come  from  Eome. 
In  one  is  your  recall,  in  the  other  a  cardinal's  hat. 
Which  do  you  prefer?" 

"Surely  not  the  cardinal's  hat,"  said  the  prel- 
ate. "Listen  to  me,  Madame,  for  I  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  you  which  will  cause  you  some 
reflection.  If  I  had  any  ambitions,  they  are  gone ; 
if  I  had  any  dreams,  they  have  vanished.  Madame, 
some  twenty  years  ago  your  duchy  was  created.  It 
was  not  done  to  please  Albrecht's  younger  brother, 
the  duke,  your  father.  Albrecht  was  childless. 
When  your  father  was  given  the  duchy  it  was  done 
to  exclude  forever  the  house  of  Auersperg  from 
reigning  on  this  throne.  You  say  that  you  were 
tricked;  well,  and  so  was  I.  Unhappily  I  touched 
the  deeper  current  too  late. 

"This  poor  king,  who  lies  silent  in  the  palace, 
was  not  my  puppet.  I  wished  to  make  him  great, 
and  bask  in  his  greatness.  But  in  that  I  failed; 
because  Leopold  was  a  poet  and  a  philosopher,  and 
the  greatness  of  earthly  things  did  not  concern 
him.  Leopold  and  I  were  dupes  of  Austria,  as  you 


424         THE    PUPPET     CROWN 

are  at  this  moment,  Madame.  So  long  as  Leopold 
reigned  peacefully  he  was  not  to  be  disturbed.  Had 
you  shown  patience  and  resignation,  doubtless  to- 
day you  would  be  a  queen.  You  will  never  be 
more  than  a  duchess. 

"Madame,  you  have  done  exactly  as  Austria  in- 
tended you  should.  There  is  no  longer  any  king- 
dom." There  was  a  subdued  triumph  in  his  eyes. 
"To  you,"  with  a  gesture  toward  the  courtiers  and 
office-seekers,  "to  you  I  shall  say,  your  own  blind 
self-interest  has  destroyed  you.  Madame,  you  are 
bearing  arms  not  against  this  kingdom,  but  against 
Austria,  since  from  to-day  this  land  becomes  the 
property  of  the  imperial  crown.  If  you  struggle, 
it  will  be  futilely.  For,  by  this  move  of  yours, 
Austria  will  declare  that  this  kingdom  is  a  menace 
to  the  tranquility  of  the  confederation.  Madame, 
there  is  no  corner-stone  to  your  edifice.  This  is 
what  I  wished  to  say  to  you.  I  have  done.  Permit 
me  to  withdraw." 

For  a  moment  his  auditors  were  spellbound; 
then  all  the  emotions  of  the  mind  and  heart  por- 
trayed themselves  on  the  circle  of  faces.  Ma- 
dame's  face  alone  was  inscrutable. 

"His  Excellency,  the  Austrian  ambassador!" 
announced  the  orderly. 

The  archbishop  bowed  and  left  the   apartment. 

"Your  Highness,"  began  the  Austrian,  "his  Im- 
perial Majesty  commands  your  immediate  evacu- 
ation of  Bleiberg,  and  that  you  delay  not  your  depart- 
ure to  the  frontier.  This  kingdom  is  a  crown 
land.  It  shall  remain  so  by  the  consent  of  the 
confederation.  If  you  refuse  to  obey  this  injunc- 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         425 

tion,  an  army  will  enforce  the  order.  Believe  me, 
Madame,  this  office  is  distasteful  to  me,  but  it  was 
not  avoidable.  What  disposition  am  I  to  submit 
to  his  Majesty?" 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,  "I  am  without  choice  in  the 
matter.  To  pit  my  forces  against  the  emperor's 
would  be  neither  politic  nor  sensible.  I  submit." 
There  was  not  a  sign  of  any  emotion,  no  hint  of  the 
terrible  wrath  which  lay  below  the  surface  of  those 
politely  modulated  tones.  But  it  seemed  to  her  as 
she  stood  there,  the  object  of  all  eyes,  that  some 
part  of  her  soul  had  died.  Her  pride  surmounted 
the  humiliation,  the  pride  of  a  woman  and  a  prin- 
cess. She  would  show  no  weakness  to  the  world. 

"Then,  Madame,"  said  the  ambassador,  sup- 
pressing the  admiration  in  his  eyes  at  this  evi- 
dence of  royal  nonchalance,  "I  shall  inform  his 
Majesty  at  once." 

When  he  had  gone,  Madame  turned  coldly  to 
her  stricken  followers.  "Messieurs,  the  fortunes 
of  war  are  not  on  our  side.  I  thank  you  for  your 
services.  Now  leave  me;  I  wish  to  be  alone." 

One  by  one  they  filed  out  into  the  corridors. 
The  orderly  was  the  last  to  leave,  and  he  closed 
the  door  behind  him.  Madame  surveyed  the 
room.  All  the  curtains  were  drawn.  She  was 
alone.  She  stood  idly  fingering  the  papers  which 
lay  scattered  on  the  table.  Suddenly  she  lifted 
her  hands  above  her  head  and  clenched  them  in 
a  burst  of  silent  rage.  A  dupe !  doubly  a  dupe ! 
To-morrow  the  whole  world  would  laugh  at  her, 
and  she  was  without  means  of  wreaking  ven- 
geance. Presently  the  woman  rose  above  the 


426         THE     PUPPET     CKOWN 

princess.  She  sat  down,  laid  her  face  on  her 
arms  and  wept. 

Fitzgerald  stepped  from  behind  one  of  the  cur- 
tains. He  had  taken  refuge  there  during  the 
archbishop's  speech.  He  had  not  the  strength  to 
witness  the  final  humiliation  of  the  woman  he 
loved.  He  was  gazing  out  of  the  window  at  the 
troops  in  the  Platz  when  the  door  closed. 

Madame  heard  the  rustle  of  the  curtain  and 
looked  up.  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  eyes  blaz- 
ing. 

"You  ?"  she  cried.  "You  ?  You  have  dared  to 
hide  that  you  might  witness  my  weakness  and  my 
tears?  You.  .  .  ." 

"Madame  I" 

"Go!     I  hate  you!" 

"Ah,  Madame,  we  always  hate  those  whom  we 
have  wronged.  Do  not  forget  that  I  love  you, 
with  a  love  that  passes  convention." 

"Monsieur,  I  am  yet  a  princess.  Did  you  not 
hear  me  bid  you  go?" 

"Why?"  in  a  voice  singularly  free  from  agita- 
tion. "Because  I  am  the  only  man  who  has 
served  you  unselfishly?  Is  that  the  reason,  Ma- 
dame? You  have  laughed  at  me.  I  love  you. 
You  have  broken  me.  I  love  you.  I  can  never 
look  an  honest  man  in  the  face  again.  I  love  you. 
Though  the  shade  of  my  father  should  rise  to  ac- 
cuse me,  still  would  I  say  that  I  love  you.  Ma- 
dame, will  you  find  another  love  like  mine,  the 
first  love  of  a  man  who  will  know  no  second? 
Forgive  me  if  I  rejoice  in  your  despair,  for  your 
despair  is  my  hope.  As  a  queen  you  would  be 


THE    PUPPET     CROWN         427 

too  far  away;  but  in  your  misfortune  you  come  so 
near!  Madame,  I  shall  follow  you  wherever  you 
go  to  tell  you  that  I  love  you.  You  will  never 
be  able  to  shut  your  ears  to  my  voice;  far  or  near, 
you  will  always  hear  me  saying  that  I  love  you. 
Ambition  soars  but  a  little  way;  love  has  no  fet- 
ters. Madame,  your  lips  were  given  to  me.  Qan 
you  forget  that?" 

"Monsieur,  what  do  you  wish?"  subdued  by  the 
fervor  of  his  tones. 

"You!  nothing  in  the  world  but  you." 

"Princesses  such  as  I  am  do  not  wed  for  iove. 
What!  you  take  advantage  of  my  misfortune,  the 
shattering  of  my  dreams,  to  force  your  love  upon 
me?" 

"Madame,"  the  pride  of  his  race  lighting  his 
eyes,  "confess  to  me  that  you  did  not  win  my  love 
to  play  with  it.  If  my  heart  was  necessary  to 
your  happiness,  which  lay  in  these  shattered 
dreams,  tell  me,  and  I  will  go.  My  love  is  so 
great  that  it  does  not  lack  generosity." 

For  reply  she  sorted  the  papers  and  extended  a 
blood-stained  packet  toward  him.  "Here,  Monsieur, 
are  your  consols."  But  the  moment  his  hand  touched 
them,  she  made  as  though  to  take  them  back.  On 
the  top  of  the  packet  was  the  letter  she  had  writ- 
ten to  him,  and  on  which  he  had  written  his  scorn- 
ful reply  to  her.  She  paled  as  she  saw  him  un- 
fold it. 

"So,  Madame,  my  love  was  a  pastime?"  He 
came  close  to  her,  and  his  look  was  like  an  invisi- 
ble hand  bearing  down  on  her.  "Madame,  I  will  go.'' 


428         THE    PUPPET     CROWX 

"No,  no!"  she  cried,  yielding  to  the  impulse 
which  suddenly  laid  hold  of  her.  "Not  you! 
You  shall  not  misjudge  me.  No,  not  you !  Those 
consols  were  given  to  me  by  the  woman  of  your 
guide,  Kopf,  who  found  them  no  one  knows  how. 
They  were  given  to  me  this  morning.  That  let- 
ter  I  did  net  intend  that  you  should 

see*  it.  No,  Monsieur;  you  shall  not  misjudge  the 
woman,  however  you  judge  the  princess.  Forgive 
me,  it  was  not  the  woman  who  sought  your  love; 
it  was  the  princess  who  had  need  of  it. 

"I  thought  it  would  be  but  a  passing  fancy.  I 
did  not  dream  of  this  end.  To-morrow  I  shall  be 
laughed  at,  and  I  cannot  defend  myself  as  a  man 
can.  I  must  submit;  I  must  smile  and  cover  my 
chagrin.  0,  Monsieur,  do  not  speak  to  me  of  love; 
there  is  nothing  in  my  heart  but  rage  and  bitter- 
ness. To  stoop  as  I  have  stooped,  and  in  vain ! 
I  am  defeated;  I  must  remain  passive;  like  a 
whipped  child  I  am  driven  away.  Talk  not  of  love 
to  me.  I  am  without  illusion."  She  fell  to  weep- 
ing, and  to  him  she  was  lovelier  in  her  tears  than 
ever  in  her  smiles.  For  would  she  have  shown  this 
weakness  to  any  but  himself,  and  was  it  not  a  sign 
that  he  was  not  wholly  indifferent  to  her? 

"Madame,  what  is  it?"  he  cried,  on  his  knees 
before  her.  "What  is  it?  Do  you  wish  a  crown? 
Find  me  a  kingdom,  and  I  will  buy  it  for  you.  Be 
mine,  and  woe  to  those  who  dare  to  laugh !  Ah, 
could  I  but  convince  }'ou  that  love  is  above  crowns 
and  kingdoms,  the  only  glimpse  we  have  on  earth 
of  Paradise.  There  is  no  boundary  to  the  dreams ; 
no  horizons;  a  vast,  beautiful  wilderness,  and  you 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         429 

and  I  together.  There  are  no  storms,  no  clouds. 
Ambition,  the  god  of  schemes,  finds  no  entrance. 
Ah,  how  I  love  you !  Your  face  is  ever  before  me, 
waking  or  sleeping.  All  thoughts  are  merged  into 
one,  and  that  is  of  you.  Self  has  dropped  out  of 
my  existence.  Forget  that  you  are  a  princess;  re- 
member only  that  you  are  a  woman,  and  that  I  love 
you." 

Love  has  the  key  to  eloquence.  Madame  for- 
got her  vanished  dreams;  the  bitterness  in  her 
heart  subsided.  That  mysterious,  indefinable 
thrill,  which  every  woman  experiences  when  a 
boundless  love  is  laid  at  her  feet,  passed  through 
her,  leaving  her  sensible  to  a  delicious  languor. 
This  man  was  strong  in  himself,  yet  weak  before 
her,  and  from  his  weakness  she  gained  a  visible 
strength.  Convention  was  nothing  to  him;  that 
she  was  of  royal  blood  was  still  less.  What  other 
man  would  have  dared  her  wrath  as  he  had  done? 

Xobility,  she  thought,  was  based  on  the 
observance  of  certain  laws.  Around  the  central 
star  were  lesser  stars,  from  which  the  central  star 
drew  its-  radiance.  Whenever  one  of  these  stars 
deviates  from  its  orbit,  the  glory  of  the  central 
star  is  diminished.  To  accept  the  love  of  the 
Englishman  would  be  a  blow  to  the  pride  of  Aus- 
tria. She  smiled. 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,  in  a  hesitating  voice,  "Mon- 
sieur, I  am  indeed  a  woman.  You  ask  me  if  I  can 
forget  that  I  offered  you  my  lips?  No.  Nor  do  I 
wish  to.  Why  did  I  permit  you  to  kiss  me?  I  do 
not  know.  I  could  not  analyze  the  impulse1  if  I 
tried.  Monsieur,  I  am  a  woman  who  demands 


130         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

much  from  those  who  serve  her.  I  am  capricious; 
my  moods  vary;  I  am  unfamiliar  with  sentiment; 
I  hate  oftener  than  I  love.  Listen.  There  is  u 
canker  in  my  heart,  made  there  by  vanity.  When 
it  heals — well — mayhap  you  will  find  the  woman 
you  desire.  Mind  you,  I  make  no  promises.  Fol- 
low me,  if  you  will,  hut  have  patience;  love  me  if 
you  must,  but  in  silence;"  and  with  a  gesture 
which  was  not  without  a  certain  fondness,  she  laid 
her  hand  upon  his  head. 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

INTO     STILL     WATERS     AND     SILENCE 

Into  the  princess's  own  chamber  they  car- 
ried Maurice,  and  laid  him  on  the  white  bed. 
Thus  would  she  have  it.  Xo  young  man  had  ever 
before  entered  that  sacred  chapel  of  her  maiden 
dreams.  Beside  the  bed  was  a  small  prie-dieu; 
and  she  knelt  upon  the  cushion  and  rested  her 
brow  against  the  crucifix.  The  archbishop  cov- 
ered his  eyes,  and  the  state  physician  bent  his  head. 
Chastity  and  innocence  at  the  feet  of  God;  yet, 
not  even  these  can  hold  back  the  fleeting  breath 
of  life.  She  asked  God  to  forgive  her  the  bitter- 
ness in  her  heart;  she  prayed  for  strength  to  repel 
the  weakness  in  her  limbs.  Presently  she  rose, 
an  angelic  sweetness  on  her  face.  She  looked 
down  at  Maurice;  there  was  no  sign  of  life,  save 
in  the  fitful  drawing  in  of  the  nether  lip.  She 
dampened  a  cloth  and  wiped  the  sweat  of  agony 
from  the  marble  brow. 

"0,  if  only  he  might  live!"  she  cried.  "And  he 
will  not?" 

"Xo,  your  Highness,"  said  the  physician.  "He 
has  perhaps  an  hour.  Extraordinary  vitality 
alone  is  the  cause  of  his  living  so  long.  He  has 
431 


433         THE     PUPPET     CROWN 

lost  nearly  all  the  blood  in  his  body.  It  was  a 
frightful  wound.  He  is  dying,  but  he  may  return 
to  consciousness  before  the  end. 

The  archbishop,  with  somber  eyes,  contemplat- 
ed the  pale,  handsome  face,  which  lay  motionless 
against  the  pillow.  His  thoughts  flew  back  to  his 
own  youthj  to  the  long  years  which  had  filled  the 
gap  between.  Friends  had  come  and  gone,  loved 
ones  vanished;  and  still  he  stood,  like  an  oak  in 
the  heart  of  a  devastated  forest,  alone.  Why  had 
he  been  spared,  and  to  what  end?  Ah,  how  old 
he  was,  how  very  old !  To  live  beyond  the  allotted 
time,  was  not  that  a  punishment  for  some  trans- 
gression? His  eyes  shone  through  a  mist  of 
tears. 

The  princess,  too,  contemplated  the  face  of  the 
dying  man.  How  many  times  had  that  face  ac- 
companied her  in  her  dreams !  How  familiar  she 
was  with  every  line  of  it,  the  lips,  that  turned 
inward  when  they  smiled;  the  certain  lock  of  hair 
that  fell  upon  the  forehead !  And  yet,  she  had 
seen  the  face  in  reality  less  than  half  a  dozen 
times.  Why  had  it  entered  so  persistently  into 
her  dreams?  Why  had  the  flush  risen  to  her 
cheeks  at  the  thought?  At  another  time  she  would 
have  refused  to  listen  to  the  voice  which  answered ; 
but  now,  as  the  object  of  her  thoughts  lay  dying 
on  her  pillow,  her  mind  would  not  play  truant  to 
her  heart.  Sometimes  the  approach  of  love  is  so 
imperceptible  that  it  does  not  provoke  analysis. 
We  wake  suddenly  to  find  it  in  our  hearts,  so 
strong  and  splendid  that  we  submit  without  ques- 
tion. .  .  .  All,  all  her  dreams  had  vanished, 


THE    PUPPET     CKOWN         433 

the  latest  and  the  fairest.  Across  the  azure  of 
her  youth  had  come  and  gone  a  vague,  beautiful 
flash  of  love.  The  door  of  earthly  paradise  had 
opened  and  closed.  That  delicate  string  which 
vibrates  with  the  joy  of  living  seemed  parted;  her 
heart  was  broken,  and  her  young  breast  a  tomb. 
With  straining  eyes  she  continued  to  gaze.  The 
invisible  arms  of  her  love  clasped  Maurice  to  her 
heart  and  held  him  there.  Only  that  day  he  had 
stood  before  her,  a  delight  to  the  eye;  and  she  had 
given  him  her  hand  to  kiss.  How  bravely  he  had 
gone  forth  from  the  city !  She  had  followed 
him  with  her  ardent  gaze  until  he  was  no  longer 
to  be  seen.  And  now  he  lay  dying.  .  .  .  for 
her. 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,  turning  to  the  physician, 
"I  have  something  to  say  to  Monseigneur." 

The  physician  bowed  and  passed  into  the  bou- 
doir, the  door  of  which  he  closed. 

"Father,"  she  said  to  the  prelate,  "I  have  no 
secrets  from  you'."  She  pointed  to  Maurice.  "I 
love  him.  I  know  not  why.  He  comes  from  a 
foreign  land;  his  language  nor  his  people  are  mine, 
and  yet  the  thought  of  him  has  filled  my  soul.  I 
have  talked  to  him  but  four  different  times;  and 
yet  I  love  him.  Why?  I  can  not  tell.  The  mind 
has  no  power  to  rule  the  impulse  of  love.  Were 
he  to  live,  perhaps  my  love  would  be  a  sin.  Is  it 
not  strange,  father,  that  I  love  him?  I  have  lost 
parental  love;  I  am  losing  a  love  a  woman  holds 
priceless  above  all  others.  He  is  dying  because 
of  me.  He  loves  me.  I  read  it  in  his  eyes  just 
before  he  fell.  Perhaps  it  is  better  for  him  and 


434         THE     PUPPET     CEOWN 

for  me  that  he  should  die,  for  if  he  lived  I  could 
not  live  without  him.  Father,  do  I  sin?" 

"No,  my  child/'  and  the  prelate  closed  his  eyes. 

"I  have  been  so  lonely,"  she  said,  "so  alone. 
I  craved  the  love  of  the  young.  He  was  so  differ- 
ent from  any  man  I  had  met  before.  His  bright, 
handsome  face  seemed  constantly  with  me." 

At  this  moment  Maurice's  breast  rose  and  fell 
in  a  long  sigh.  Presently  the  lids  of  his  eyes 
rolled  upward.  Consciousness  had  returned.  His 
wandering  gaze  first  encountered  the  sad,  austere 
visage  of  the  prelate. 

"Monseigneur  ?"   he   said,    faintly. 

"Do  you  wish  absolution,  my  son?" 

"I  am  dying.     .     .     .     ?" 

"Yes." 

"I  am  dying.  .  .  .  God  has  my  account  and 
he  will  judge  it.  I  am  not  a  Catholic,  Monseig- 
neur." He  turned  his  head.  "Your  Highness?" 
He  roved  about  the  room  with  his  eyes  and  dis- 
cerned the  feminine  touch  in  all  the  appointments. 
"Where  am  I?" 

"You  are  in  my  room,  Monsieur,"  she  said. 
Her  voice  broke,  but  she  met  his  eyes  with  a  brave 
smile.  "Is  there  anything  we  can  do  for  you?" 

"Nothing.  I  am  alone.  To  die.  .  .  .  Well, 
one  time  or  another.  And  yet,  it  is  a  beautiful 
world,  when  we  but  learn  it,  full  of  color  and  life 
and  love.  I  am  young;  I  do  not  wish  to  die.  And 
now  .  .  .  even  in  the  midst  ...  to  go 
.  .  .  where?  Monseigneur,  I  am  dying;  to 
me  princes  and  kings  signify  nothing.  That  is  not 
to  say  that  they  ever  did.  In  the  presence  of  death 


THE     PUPPET     CROWN         435 

we  are  all  equal.  Living,  I  might  not  speak;  dy- 
ing .  .  .  since  I  have  but  a  little  while  to  stay 
.  .  .  I  may  speak?" 

"Yes,  my  son,  speak.     Her  Highness  will  listen." 
"It  is  to  her  Highness  that  I  wish  to  speak." 
Her  lips  quivered  and  she  made  no  secret  of  her 
tears.     "What  is  it  you  wish  to  say  to  me,  Monsieur 
Carewe'f     She    smoothed    his    forehead,    and    the 
touch  of  her  hand  made  him  forget  his  pain. 

"Ah,  I  know  not  how  to  begin,"  he  said.  "For- 
give me  if  I  offend  your  ears.  ...  I  have  been 
foolish  even  to  dream  of  it,  but  I  could  not  help  it. 
.  .  .  When  first  I  saw  you  in  the  garden  .  . 
the  old  dog  was  beside  you.  .  .  .  Even  then  it 
came  to  me  that  my  future  was  linked  to 
the  thought  of  you.  I  did  not  know  you  were  so 
far  beyond.  ...  I  was  very  cold,  but  I  dared 
not  let  you  know  it,  for  fear  you  would  lead  me  at 
once  to  the  gate.  That  night  wherever  I  looked 
I  saw  you.  I  strove  to  think  of  some  way  to  serve 
you,  but  I  could  not.  I  was  so  obscure.  I  never 
thought  that  you  would  remember  me  again;  but 
you  did.  .  .  .  That  afternoon  in  the  carriage 
.  .  .  I  wanted  to  tell  you  then.  That  rose  you 
dropped  .  .  .  it  is  still  on  my  heart.  I  loved 
you,  and  to  this  end.  And  I  am  glad  to  die,  for  in 
this  short  fortnight  I  have  lived.  .  .  .  My 
mother  used  to  call  me  Maurice  ...  to  hear 
a  woman  repeat  it  again  before  I  go." 

"Maurice."  She  took  his  hand  timidly  in  hers, 
and  looked  at  the  archbishop. 

"Speak  to  him  from  your  heart,  my  child,"  said 
the  prelate.  "It  will  comfort  you  both." 


436         THE     PUPPET     CEOWN 

Suddenly  she  drooped  and  the  tears  fell  upon 
the  hand  in  hers.  "Maurice,"  she  whispered,  "you 
have  not  loved  in  vain."  She  could  utter  no  more; 
but  she  raised  her  head  and  looked  into  his  eyes, 
and  he  saw  the  glory  of  the  world  in  hers. 

"Into  still  waters  and  silence/'  he  said  softly. 
"Xo  more  pain,  nor  joy,  nor  love;  silence.  .  .  . 
You  love  me !  .  .  .  Alexia ;  how  often  have  I 
repeated  that  name  to  myself.  ...  I  have  not 
strength  to  lift  your  hand  to  my  lips." 

She  kissed  him  on  the  lips.  She  felt  as  if  she, 
too,  were  dying. 

"God  guard  your  Highness,"  he  said.  "It  is 
dark.  ...  I  do  not  see  you.  .  .  . 

He  tried  to  raise  himself,  but  he  could  not.  He 
sank  back,  settled  deeply  into  the  pillow,  and 
smiled.  After  that  he  lay  very  still. 


THE     END. 


DIFFERENT   AND   DELIGHTFUL 

UNDER  THE 
ROSE 


By  FREDERIC   S.   ISHAM 
Author  of  The  Strollers 


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fully. The  reader  who  loves  romance,  intrigue  and  adventure, 
love-seasoned,  will  find  it  here." — The  Lamp. 

With  Illustrations  in  Six  Colors  by 
Howard  Chandler  Christy 
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